Coffee
by Raven100104
Summary: "I was taught that people who take their coffee black are all psychopaths." Gaara feels something bubbling to the surface. "Well…" His eyes are wild - a little deranged, even. His lips curl into a smile... slowly... strangely... "They're not wrong." GaaraxOC
1. Simmer

**Coffee**

 _"I was taught that people who take their coffee black are all psychopaths." Machi deadpans, and Gaara feels a smile bubbling to the surface._

 _"Well…" The smile breaks through, and Gaara gestures to himself as his gourd shakes a bit, like little excited demons waiting to be released. "They're not wrong."_

* * *

Machi isn't even sure when it started, to be honest. Born and raised a shinobi of Sunakagure, of course she has heard stories and rumors about him, and she, from time-to-time when she gets the chance to go into town, has definitely seen him in passing.

Him.

Sabaku no Gaara.

He's a monster, so they'd say.

He doesn't feel, so they'd say.

He's dangerous, so they'd say

And most of all, they'd say " **Avoid at all cost.** "

Growing up, Machi doesn't see very much of Gaara, so there really is no telling what she would or wouldn't have done.

But look how the tables have turned as the years fly by. The bigots of the past are now swallowing their pride, watching the younger generation pining relentlessly for "the monster's" attention, male and female alike. Dismissed and idolized all at once, Machi realizes, no one really sees the redhead as a real human being.

Unlike her peers, Machi had not been particularly pleased or displeased when she had first heard the results of the Kage nomination, but then again, she had never spoken to Gaara – she just didn't know him enough to know how to feel.

The first time Machi meets Gaara is through Temari. Kuniochis are few and far between, so Temari doesn't simply let a chance slip by to make a girlfriend. So when Gaara summons his siblings to his office one cool afternoon in the middle of November, Machi tags along.

"What do you need, Gaara?" Temari asks, her voice rang across the room before she is seen as she enters the Kazekage's office without knocking, omitting as well other gestures of formality.

"I just-" Gaara starts, only to trail off upon noticing another presence in the room.

Machi freezes by the door when his piercing gaze settles on her, and tucks her neck into her shoulder in a sheepish 'oops'. "Sorry, I'll wait outside."

"Nonsense!" Temari laughs, circling behind her to push her forward. Machi hears the click of the door closing. "Gaara doesn't bite."

The redhead barely spares a second to glare at Temari before returning his attention to the unfamiliar kunoichi. "Your name?"

"It's Machi, Kazekage-sama." She flashes him a small smile, pressing herself against the door and not quite sure where to draw the line between formality and familiarity. After all, he's just Temari's brother… and the most powerful person in the village.

Her inner conflict seems to slip by unnoticed, for Gaara nods pleasantly at her and stands to extend a hand. "Nice to meet you, Machi."

"You too." With each small, bouncing step, she approaches him, smiling acknowledgement to a man with purple face paint and a younger girl with sandy brown hair. Once within range, Machi slips a hand into Gaara's and confusion sprinkles onto her face. "Your hand feels odd."

There is a beat of silence, then the man with the face paint bursts into a booming guffaw, eyes shining in absolute mirth. Anyone who has seen the evils of the world and can still laugh so freely… Machi likes him already. "What?" She asks with a smile of her own.

"Nothing, nothing. I don't think I've ever met anybody as straightforward, is all." His eyes twinkle as laughter melts into a warm chuckle. "I'm Kankuro, by the way. Gaara and Temari's brother."

"Oh! I've heard a lot about you!" Machi slips her hand out of Gaara's, turning to face Kankuro thus missing the way the redhead sits down awkwardly, even for him. Gaara clears his throat quietly, but Machi is already too enthralled by his brother.

"All good things, I hope?" He wiggles his brows.

Machi laughs some more. "In your wildest dreams."

"Well damn." Kankuro proceeds to prop himself off the wall and casually throws an arm around her. "I can't believe Temari has been making me look bad in front of a pretty girl such as yourself."

"Ah-ah! Temari said you're quite the lady's man." Machi dramatically wiggles out of his arm for emphasis. "But I see you, Kankuro-san. You talk big, but I bet you're more of the one-woman type."

"Beauty and brains!" Kankuro lets out an airy laugh, and Machi can already tell that it's all just empty flirts, so she joins him. From his seat, Gaara watches the effortless exchange, unconsciously rubbing his hands together.

"It's sand."

Everybody pauses. So, Gaara repeats himself, "It's sand… the odd texture."

Machi's eyes light up with enough watts to power all of the 5 great nations and then some. "Why?"

"It's because Gaara-sama is always ready. It's his sand armor, his ultimate defense." The younger brunette speaks up suddenly for her mentor, if not with a slightly haughty air that almost tips the balance of the light atmosphere. "Everybody in Suna knows that."

Machi blinks at her. "I'm…sorry? Um, you are…?"

"Matsuri is Gaara's student. She's improved a lot under his tutelage." Temari explains, then turns to Matsuri pointedly. "She's very protective of Gaara, you could say. Quick to defend him, yes." Her eyes narrows. "Too quick, sometimes."

Machi mouths a soft 'oh', but smiles warmly at Matsuri regardless. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend Kazekage-sama. My mouth moves faster than my brain sometimes, my sincerest apologies."

While Matsuri huffs quietly in her corner, Gaara waves a hand dismissively, trying not to think about how fast her pattern of speech changes when addressing him as opposed to addressing his siblings. "In any case, Temari, Kankuro, I've called you here to discuss my escorts for the trip to Konoha to finalize the alliance. While Matsuri suggests that I handpick ANBU members to accompany me, I wanted to consult with you first."

"Why not just take us?" The words slips out of Kankuro's mouth easily, as if they were the most natural thing in the world.

"I second that. We've always been a team anyway. I don't see why you have to bother with ANBU." Temari adds, then with the slightest hint of bitterness, "No offense, but when did you start consulting with Matsuri?"

"Matsuri is a valued shinobi and friend, Temari. Besides, she makes a valid point. Different opinions help me make an informed decision." Gaara retorts and all eyes are now on him as he nudges a pen to his chin in contemplation. Temari and Kankuro groan in unison, earning an eye-roll from their beloved brother.

"If I may?" Machi suddenly cuts in, if not a bit shyly with a hand raised like she is waiting to be called on.

Gaara spares her a glance, then nods.

"The alliance is a delicate situation, and there will no doubt be assassination attempts seeing as many will probably be threatened by the linkage of the world's two biggest nations. I think Kazekage-sama should have escorts with whom he is comfortable where no words are necessary for communication, since you may not get to even speak with your escorts in desperate times." Machi pauses to gauge Gaara's reaction, as if giving him a moment to tell her to shut up and that she is out of line. When he remains silent and attentive, she continues. "Well, I feel that Temari and Kankuro-san are the most obvious choices as well, especially since in addition to teamwork, they genuinely want to protect you, you being their baby brother and all."

"Beauty and brains." Kankuro repeats wistfully, and Machi thanks him with a smile this time. "I'm appalled that Temari kept you from the family for so long."

Gaara studies her for a minute, sea foam eyes searching for her signs of an ulterior motive in her cerulean ones. Even from a good distance away, Machi can still feel his sharp gaze cradle her entirety. Nevertheless, she stands her ground and internally thanks whatever gods watching over her for giving her the nerve to hold his gaze until the Kazekage looks away first.

And if Gaara notices her breathing easier, he doesn't mention it.

"So um." Machi starts when Gaara says nothing further. "Tem, I'll just…leave you guys to it." She turns to the others with a polite smile, pointedly dismissing Temari's accusing sigh towards her youngest brother. "Good to meet you."

"Already? You just got here!" Kankuro protests almost immediately, holding out his arms in what he hopes to be a welcoming gesture. "What's the rush?"

"It's not my place, Kankuro-san," Machi says gently as she gives Kankuro a soft pat on the shoulder, along with a curve of the lips that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "See you around though."

"She's right, Kankuro-sama. This is a private matter of national importance." Matsuri adds, and it doesn't take a genius to detect her casual disapproval.

"Then you should probably go too." Temari mutters with a silent huff, crossing her arms into a defensive stance, only to earn a stern 'Temari' from Gaara. She shrugs him off.

Despite her occasional interest in inane dramas, Machi smartly decides to opt out of this particular one – no point on getting on the bad side of 'Big Bad Gaara.' Instead, she stifles a cough and opens the door, signaling her imminent departure. All eyes fall on her once more. "So, I'll see you around, Temari. Pleasure to meet everybody," she forces an awkward wave, "Kazekage-sama."

With one last respectful nod at Gaara, Machi quickly paces out of the room. Gaara stares at her retreating figure as she shuts the door, and as soon as she does, he realizes how he must've come off, letting her go without expressing his appreciation for her input… or anything at all for that matter.

"Well." Temari begins, dusting off invisible dirt off her clothes. "Now that you know how we feel, just let us know what you've decided. C'mon Kankuro; we'll see you at home, Gaara."

With that, the blonde kuniochi trots out indignantly without so much as a goodbye as her brother quickly follows. Kankuro, however, takes a second to leave Gaara a sympathetic smile before he swiftly shuts the door behind him. Gaara exhales loudly, fingers massaging his forehead as he leans back into his desk.

Matsuri furrows her brows in concern, going forward to rest a caring hand lightly on his shoulder blade. "G-Gaara-sama? Do you care for some coffee?"

"Sure." Gaara sighs again, this time, whirling the chair around to face his beloved student before she could leave. "Matsuri, you didn't have to do that." He is no longer talking about coffee, she figures.

"I'm only looking out for you, Gaara-sensei. I can't help that neither of your siblings like me very much." A certain tone curls around his name as Matsuri speaks, and Gaara isn't sure what to make of it. "Besides, you know how I feel when people disrespect you."

Gaara couldn't help but soften at her words. After all, Matsuri was there, _is_ here, when no one else dared to approach him, and he would always be gracious and thankful towards her regardless. "Thank you." Then, "What do you make of Temari's friend…Machi?" He asks almost tentatively, as if testing out the syllables on his tongue.

"Frankly, Gaara-sensei, I think she's just here to agree with Temari-san." Matsuri tuts distastefully, then wrinkles her nose. "I don't like her."

"I see." With teal eyes narrowed in contemplation, Gaara sends his student on her way. As he watches the heavy wooden door squeak close followed by a soft 'click,' Gaara leans back on his chair, fingers intertwined, and mutters to himself with a distant expression. He twirls his chair towards the windows to face the village. "You're wrong, Matsuri. She's genuine, that…"

The smallest hint of a smile tugs at his lips.

"… Machi."

* * *

 **A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for checking out the story. This is a re-edited version, and I'd greatly appreciate any feedback or thoughts, so please leave a review on your way out!**


	2. Warmth

"You guys don't have to walk me home!" Machi scratches her head sheepishly. After she left the building, Kankuro and Temari caught up to her and insisted that they accompany her.

"We want to. What kind of friend am I if I let you leave unhappy after hanging out?" Temari grins her wolfish grin. "Let us at least take you to dinner."

"To make up for Matsuri's rudeness." Kankuro adds, falling in step next to the younger kunoichi.

"Oh guys, c'mon. She's just looking out for your brother. I get it. You really don't have to, both of you!" Machi reassures with flailing arms, already feeling embarrassed.

"Please. Matsuri's had the biggest crush on Gaara since he saved her from her kidnapping." Temari explains with a roll of her eyes, practically dragging Machi along downtown. "Now, what do you feel like eating?"

"I don't know?" The brunette shrugs out of her friend's firm grasp while simultaneously trying to swallow her welling curiosity. Trying. "What kidnapping?"

"You haven't heard?" Kankuro's brows nearly jump to his hairline in surprise. Machi shakes her head, muttering something about how current events aren't really her 'thing'. "Well, it actually happened right after Matsuri became Gaara's student, maybe a few days after, right?"

Temari nods in affirmation before taking over. "These assholes came after Gaara for his One-Tail chakra and-"

"Hold up, don't a lot of them do that anyway? Y'know, before he got…" Machi hesitates, unsure as to whether she wants to potentially reopen a freshly healed wound.

"Killed?" Kankuro finishes casually and attempts to steady Machi by placing a hand on her waist. Weird, the brunette thinks, she hadn't even stumbled. "Yes. But what's different about this one is that Gaara's changed after his whole encounter with that annoying blond kid from Konoha."

"Those bastards were the first ones to use people Gaara cared about to get to him. The first time Gaara actually cared about people, too." Temari clarifies with a strangled sandiness beneath her pleasant tone that anyone close to her can pinpoint to be a soft anger, simmering, waiting just for the last straw that sends it over boiling. "It was also the first time Gaara learned to suppress Shukaku and win with his own strength."

"It really surprised all of nobody that Matsuri started to want to screw our brother." Kankuro finishes with a laugh and dodges an impending fist from Temari, effectively tearing to shreds any wistfulness or tension. His hand finds its way back to Machi again; she lets it stay this time. "So, dinner?"

"You know what?" With a grin, Machi takes the siblings' hands. "I'll fix you both something better than the salty-greasies out there. To my place!"

* * *

November eventually melts into December, and Gaara doesn't cross paths with Machi again since their initial meeting. Still, despite having only had one encounter, Gaara finds her in his mind every once in a while, no matter how briefly it may be.

It is a chilly evening that foreshadows a very cold night in Sunagakure when Gaara gets out earlier than expected. Now, these days are not frequent occurrences, so Gaara is a bit surprised when he comes home to an empty house.

He goes over the day's work, mental flipping through all the ninja files he has sorted earlier. No, he is positive he did not send his siblings on any missions or errands, so he fixes himself a cup of tea as he ponders where they may be. Normally, by the time he does get home, Temari would have already placed his cold dinner in the microwave, and Kankuro would be lounging around, polishing his puppets or watching TV.

Tonight, the silence is almost unnerving. Perhaps it's the cold, Gaara figures. As someone who lives and breathes desert, the cold does things to him. Bad things. With his sand armor half on the kitchen tiles, he takes a moment as he presses his raw fingers to the warm cup. As soon as skin touches china, a sigh escapes his lip. It's these little pleasures that keep him sane from having sand constantly caked onto his body. To be able to feel…touch…

' _Your hand feels odd.'_ He thinks he hears.

He jumps in the empty room, startling even himself as he jerks his hands from the cup that is suddenly way too warm. He fleetingly wonders if Machi's fingers are like that.

Right.

Machi.

Quickly pulling himself together, Gaara forgets the drink by the counter and heads to the microwave. Nothing. How unusual. For a minute he ponders, head inside the microwave in a twisted Sylvia Plath position, whether he is hungry enough to put in the effort to whip up his own meal.

He only pulls away from his strange pose when he heard the door bust open, followed immediately by the maniacal laughter that resounded from none other than his own dear brother. "Kankuro?"

"Hey! Gaara! You're back early!" Kankuro exclaims with a face redder than usual, hurling himself onto the couch with a hiccup. Gaara rolls his eyes at the man's antics, briefly debating if Kankuro _is_ actually the older one, before he spots his much calmer (thank the Lord) sister, shedding her vest by the door. She smiles when she sees him.

"I see they finally let their slave out early huh?" Temari jokes, approaching him to shove a tupperware into his hands and sauntering away after a rough ruffle of his flaming locks.

Gaara glares promptly. "Where were you?" he says to her retreating back, staring at his new gift, or whatever abomination his sister has left in the box.

"Machi invited us over for dinner." Temari calls out, already half way up the stairs. Gaara raises a nonexistent brow when the blonde swerves just the slightest bit.

"It was so good." Kankuro grins in satisfaction, letting out a loud burp to reinforce his point. Gaara takes his gaze away from the box, lifting it slightly.

"And this is?" He already has a vague idea.

"Leftovers. Or your portion. Or whatever." Another burp, and Kankuro leans back into the couch, seemingly dead. 'Or sleeping. Or whatever,' Gaara thinks mockingly.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Gaara situates himself at the dining table before peeling off the lid and starts to pick at his food in silence.

"Really good, right?" Kankuro asks half way through, causing Gaara to snap his head up to find his brother staring back at him. Slowly, then almost cautiously, the Kazekage nods, wide eyes and hesitant smiles.

"How is she…Machi?" He finds himself saying it aloud, earning an amused giggle from Kankuro. Great. _And_ he giggles. "What?"

"Nothing! She's just fine." A passive-aggressive glare from Gaara only widens Kankuro's annoyingly pleased smirk. He just can't help himself, "Why? Why do you ask?"

His eyes are already twinkling into the sky when Gaara snorts, "It's just a question."

Kankuro stays silent, and Gaara is already beginning to relax, thinking Kankuro's moved on from his 'fascinating' imagination when Kankuro presses on. "You've never bothered before."

"You just weren't paying attention." Standing up abruptly, Gaara chucks the now empty tupperware into the sink and heads to the door.

"Aw Gaara! Innocent people don't run away from questions!" Kankuro yells over his shoulder in absolute mirth only to be answered with a more-force-than-necessary slam of the door. "Use protection!"

As soon as Gaara takes a step out, he immediately regrets leaving behind his Kage robe. The night desert wind now blew relentlessly, and the sand-manipulator instinctively thickens his armor.

He thinks about heading back in, but with Kankuro planted and probably growing roots from his asshole into the couch, the Kazekage would prefer not to. Folding his arms across his chest in an attempt to somewhat retain some warmth, Gaara trudges his feet down the street, red locks dancing like the wild flames in the middle of the night.

The streets are already deserted (no pun intended) except for the occasional passerby who, Gaara guesses, are probably homeward bound as well. He wonders whether these people have loved ones to go back to. Maybe kids to tuck in? A significant other to converse with? A pet waiting to be fed?

The wind picks up, and the night darkens along with Gaara's thoughts.

Nights like these remind him of the Shukaku days. At the time, no one cared whether he returned or not; in fact, they probably wished he hadn't. He isn't even sure if his own siblings fit into this category of people; he isn't sure he wants to find out either.

Gaara walks on. He wonders if these people will be missed if they don't make it home.

He doesn't know how long he's been out or how far he's walked, but when Gaara returns to his senses, he is standing in the middle of the children's park, haunted by memories and stared back by the ghostly forms of rocking horses.

There is a shuffle behind him.

"K-Kazekage-sama?" An unsure voice calls out. Gaara isn't exactly expecting company at this godforsaken hour, let along _comfortable_ company. He squints a bit in the dark to make out the shape of a female by the park entrance; she doesn't approach him though. "Is that you?"

Well, if she's not coming closer… Gaara walks towards her, revealing his identity under the street lights, and he could swear the shadowed-figure smiled as she tugs her coat on tighter. "It _is_ you! I thought so! Um, Machi, that's me, we met, a bit ago, Temari's friend?"

If Gaara were a normal person he might've laughed at the way Machi strings her sentence together, and the even more ridiculous way that Machi thinks he doesn't remember her. But he's not, so. "Yes, I remember. What are you doing out so late?"

"Could ask you the same thing!" Machi grins, almost dancing towards him now that she knows for sure who he is. "I thought I saw you from my window, so I just kind of…I don't know, it's cold and late." She says with a satisfied smile as if her explanation made any sense at all.

"You live here?"

"Yeah, top floor on the building across the park." Machi points proudly with a sweet laughter, almost tripping over her own feet as she turns towards her home. Machi's two left feet. Temari's stumble. Kankuro's giggles. The pieces of the puzzle finally fall into place.

"Did you _drink_ with my siblings?"

"…maybe." Machi smiles sweetly, looking like the picture of a guilty child if Gaara ever sees one. "But only thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis much." She giggles, putting her index finger a thumb just a centimeter apart.

Gaara heaves another long sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose; he wonders how many times he sighed tonight. When he finally looks up, Machi is already in the middle of the streets half way to her building, beckoning for him to follow her.

What is he supposed to do?

As he walks up to her, so do a group of obnoxiously loud guys from down the street. One of them must've spotted Machi because all of a sudden, sexist slurs are being thrown all over the place, none of them aware that the Kazekage stands just out of their line of sight.

"Hey little girl, you shouldn't be out so late!" one of them says.

"Unless you're looking for some fun!" shouts another.

"Nice tits! Wouldn't mind putting my face in those!"

"I'd love to show her a good time."

Machi flinches, instinctively taking a step back into defensive, hands patting around for a kunai pouch that isn't there. Shit. She came for Gaara, everything else is upstairs. Curse the alcohol. "C'mon, those pants would look better on the ground, don't you agree?"

They piss Gaara off. And it's not even in a 'I'm a responsible Kazekage' kind of way; Gaara is surprised to find that it's in a very, _very_ protective kind of way. He is brought back to his office, when her first met Machi, her cerulean eyes so earnest and genuine, and he notes that the old him would've made it raining men already. Very literally so. Still, even though Gaara is a new man, seeing those blue eyes frightened is like seeing the rarest sapphires crushed to pieces, and yes, that _pisses_ Gaara off.

"I disagree," Gaara's chilling voice takes on an eerily raspy roll as he steps fully into view. For a second, it seems like everything has stopped.

Machi allows herself a moment to take him in. Without his robe, Gaara somehow appears even more threatening; his posture, upright and dangerous, exudes a sharpness that becomes confined with the robe of authority. With the robe, he is the law; without, well, he's just _Gaara._ And that name does not carry good connotations _at all._

"K-K-Kazekage-sama!" cry an orchestra of stuttering fools. "W-We were just joking we-"

Gaara's eyes narrow like a gunshot in a crowd, effectively sending the males scrambling for their lives. But for the first time since Matsuri, Gaara is doing this for someone else.

"Thanks. You didn't have to." Machi slumps dramatically to the ground, hiding her face with an embarrassed chuckle after the quick and frantic disassemble. "Who'd have thought I'd be rescued by the Kazekage of all people? I'm a little ashamed, to be honest."

"I'm just returning a favor." Gaara states monotonously, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He merely flicks his wrist, and sand starts to swirl around the blue-eyed kunoichi, gently lifting her to her feet.

Machi stares at him curiously. "What for?" She curls tighter around herself, hoping to get some relief from the cold.

"Your input." A puzzled look. "For the trip." Gaara clarifies, cursing silently at the wind that just won't quit. Machi simply gives him a quick nod before ushering him towards her apartment complex.

"Please, come in. You can warm up inside and I'll put on the kettle." Machi beckons pleasantly, willing her shivering hands to stop trembling enough that she can successfully open the damn door. When Gaara looks up at her, she suddenly feels nervous all over again; so she quickly adds, "if you want to, that is. If you have places to be, I won't keep you."

Gaara tenses a little, weighing her offer. "I…don't need to be anywhere." It couldn't hurt, right?

Just hearing his confirmation makes Machi relax, like she is not actually crazy for thinking the Kazekage wants to spend some time with an expendable kunoichi. But he could just be being polite, Machi thinks, and her guard is up again. They pile into the elevator, both of them too absorbed in their thoughts to be able to hold a legitimate conversation.

It is when warmth hits them when Machi opens her door that both of them jerk back to reality.

"Nice place," Gaara finds himself saying, proud and a little surprised that he manages to sound remotely like a normal human being. Compared to Machi's flat, Gaara's house is huge – two floors, three bed two baths, a guest room, spacious living room and kitchen, and a very nice backyard. Machi's, on the other hand, is little and quaint: a one bedroom apartment with a small kitchen/dining area (he spares a moment on it, trying to imagine his siblings sitting around the table with Machi, having a home-cooked meal paired with a bottle of wine or two… like a family), a decent-sized living room littered in memorabilia and stuffed animals (no family photos, he notes), and sure enough, a wide enough window to get a full view of the park and general city lights. It takes on such a homely air that Gaara wouldn't mind spending his time here. Not at all.

"Thanks. Please, sit, make yourself at home." Yes, Gaara thinks, he can do that. As he slowly makes his way to the living room, he finds himself a seat that faces the kitchen where Machi is turning on the stove and placing above it a worn silver kettle.

"Tea or coffee?"

"Coffee." They quickly fall back into silence, and Gaara is only pulled out of his trance when the kettle screams and Machi addresses him without turning like she knows his eyes are already trained on her.

"How do you like your coffee?"

"Black is fine." Machi whirls around in mock horror as her face scrunches up in disgust. Gaara really wants to roll his eyes, but has to remind himself that might not be the best image to present as a Kazekage. Then, as if trying to prove a point, Machi takes a generous scoop (or three) of sugar with her cup, topping it with an equally generous splash of milk. She sets both cups on the small coffee table and takes a seat across from him. Gaara takes an experimental sip, winces, then swallows.

"I was taught that people who take their coffee black are all psychopaths." Machi deadpans, and Gaara feels a smile bubbling to the surface. This is surprisingly comfortable.

"Well…" The smallest quirk of his lips breaks through, and Gaara gestures to himself as his gourd shakes a bit, like little excited demons waiting to be released. "They're not wrong."

The blue-eyed brunette just can't help herself as a loud laughter resounded from her lips. "Oh, Kazekage-sama, you're too much." Her laugh transitions seamlessly into a grin, and after a second of contemplation, she reaches out and switches their cups. Gaara seems to vaguely get her action.

"You want me to…"

Machi nods enthusiastically, her previous shyness dissipating with every smile that escaped the redhead. Or maybe it's the alcohol. "Try. Maybe you just haven't ventured farther than black to find what you like. That, or you really are just a psychopath."

Really, he doesn't mind black coffee all that much. It's the way Matsuri prepares it, and it keeps him energized through late nights and nestles warmly in his stomach – there is nothing to complain about. Nevertheless, this time, Gaara does roll his eyes, but the hint of a smile that lingers on his lips shows her that it is all in playfulness.

"It's okay if you're scared." Machi teases, eyes brightening. Gaara most definitely doesn't wonder what he can do to make that happen more often. _He doesn't._

"I'm not scared of coffee." He sneers, swiping the café au lait from the table. As he brings it to his lips, he finds himself just the slightest bit hesitant. Machi's eyes soften and she seems to want to say 'Not coffee. New things.', but she doesn't. He takes a sip.

Pleasant surprise seems to course through him as the gentle sweetness takes over, washing down all the bitterness that has been previously sitting on his tongue. The taste of coffee is overpowered by neither the milk nor the sugar, and is just _warm._ He thinks about the wind outside, the cold, the village, but none of it matters right now, thanks to the girl sitting before him, looking at him expectantly with those big, sapphire eyes. "It's good." He decides, earning a victorious yelp from his companion.

Gaara doesn't know it then, but his late night coffee runs gradually becomes a thing when, a few times a week, he would casually stroll past the park. It is a bit out of the way from the tower to his house, but a detour and some exercise never hurts anybody, Gaara reasons. When he's there, he can't help but ring up the intercom the way Machi showed him at one point, and she would always be awake to buzz him in, always ready to make him a beverage, or just have a light chat about everything and nothing. Gaara would leave when he deems he's overstayed his welcome (Machi never complains, Gaara just does it) and she would accompany him to the lobby, bidding him goodnight with a sleepy wave and a soft smile.


	3. Bitter

Eventually, Temari's bound to notice the lag between Gaara's leaving the office and getting home.

One day, as Gaara is packing up at the end of his long and gruesome day, Temari walks in to his office. The redhead actually lifts his head in surprise – his sister is never in the office if she can help it. It suffocates her, she says. "What's the plan tonight, Gaara?"

"What do you mean?" The Kazekage raises a non-existent brow as he puts away the readied files. "It's late."

"I know. Are you going home?"

With a file-filled hand raised in midair, Gaara pauses in confusion. "Of course I am. Where would I go?"

"Right away? Right after you're done here, you're going home?" Temari crosses her arms.

"Does it matter? I'll be home."

"Where are you going? The past months you get home later and later, and I even came here at one point to yell at the council for making you stay so late, only to find that you aren't even here. So where are you then? Kidnapped?" She says with pursed lips. Maybe she's nosey, maybe she's out of line, but she's his big sister, and she has every right to be concerned, especially after the Deidara incident.

"Clearly, I'm fine." He scoffs with a roll of his eyes.

"If you're so fine, tell me." Another eye-roll. "Gaara!"

"Machi's, alright?" He growls lowly and definitely does not miss the way Temari tenses. "What? Does _your_ friend want to kill me too?"

"I don't fucking know Gaara, but if she's taking advantage of my baby brother, then this 'friendship' that we have? Over." With large and speedy steps, she breezes over to the ninja files, and with swift fingers whips out Machi's.

"You're investigating your friend." Gaara would laugh if he's the type to, but instead, his tone remains deadpan. It doesn't stop him from peering over his sister's shoulder though.

"There is nothing here. Father KIA, Mother MIA. Stepfather's COD unknown. Machi just lives by herself."

"Sounds innocent enough." Gaara states, and if you listen really hard, he is definitely teasing. With that, he left the office, leaving his sister to lock up.

* * *

It becomes inevitable, really, that Matsuri would start to feel like something is off with her favorite teacher when Gaara has to stop her from bringing him anything caffeinated.

It is approximately a week before the Konoha trip that Gaara has one of those never-ending nights. With more than enough piles of paperwork towering over him and nagging pressures from the elders, Gaara slaves away behind his desk, aquamarine eyes dulled and flaming locks mussed by the droop of his Kage hat in an almost pitiable fashion. The desert is now engulfed by total darkness when a light tap on his door interrupts the stillness of the night.

"Come in." Gaara mumbles, not even bothering to raise his voice at this point as he reads and signs yet another mission reports – he swears, if some fucktard loses another cat… – and proceeds to pick up another.

"Gaara-sensei?" Upon hearing that familiar voice, Gaara finally stops mid-read to acknowledge his guest.

"Matsuri, what are you still doing here?" He asks when he catches her eyes, his own widening just a bit in surprise.

"It's already morning, Gaara-sensei." She murmurs, walking over to him. She doesn't stop before his desk; instead, she walks around it – walks to him.

"It is. Go home." Gaara has now completely abandoned his work, turning to face Matsuri. She looks tired, matured. The redhead sighs at the thought of this bold girl, a vulnerable and frightened child when he just met her, and wishes almost like a father that she won't ever grow up. "Get some rest Matsuri, I'm sending you on a mission tomorrow."

Matsuri isn't fazed. If anything, she shakes her head stubbornly and puts a hand on his shoulder; Gaara doesn't even flinch anymore, so he just lets her – not that he'd be able to actually feel her touch anyway, sand armor and all. "Not when you're still here, Gaara-sensei. At least let me make you a brew." She smiles, and gets up when Gaara interrupts abruptly.

"That won't be necessary," He says, perhaps too quickly, causing Matsuri to stop dead in her tracks.

She turns back around accusingly. "What is with you? You've been turning down my offer for weeks now. Before, you'd never miss a warm drink at night."

"I'm trying to cut down on caffeine." Gaara states, redirecting his gaze to his unfinished file and flips to the next page. (Matsuri isn't actually sure he _is_ reading it, then again, nor is she sure that he _isn't._ ) In any case, both of them know that Matsuri does not believe him for one second.

"Then at least let me keep you company."

"Matsuri."

"Gaara-sensei."

"I'm heading out soon."

"Then I'll stay until you do."

"Matsuri…" Gaara drawls, rubbing roughly at his temples. "You're not actually my secretary, you realize that, right?"

"You just don't get it, Gaara-sensei." There is that tone again, when she says his name, and the young Kazekage is suddenly reminded of the way Uzumaki Naruto talks to Haruno Sakura when the blond idiot thinks they're alone.

Wanting to say something, then thinking better of it, Gaara buries his nose back into his work. Promptly ignoring his student in the process, – she's cleaning and putting readied files away, for God's sakes – he finishes the stack he was working on in record time. Okay, so maybe he's skimmed over one or two (or seventeen) files, the important thing remains, he gets to leave; whether this is for Matsuri's sake or for selfish reasons is yet to be determined.

"Are you done?" Matsuri grins as soon as he stands up to stretch, and Gaara returns a curt nod her way. "I'll walk with you." The chestnut-haired girl says bubbly when they step out, refreshed and reenergized by the cold air.

Gaara freezes in his tracks. "You live on the other side of town." Not that he'd accept her offer in the first place (but she doesn't need to know that) but since he has no actual plans to _be_ home…

"It's only-"

"No."

"It's not that far-"

"Matsuri, stop." Gaara's eyes narrow this time, his voice firm and his body frigid, putting Matsuri back in her place. "Whatever this is that you're doing, needs to stop."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She pouts, arms across her chest, and the only thing that would complete the picture is if she started stomping her feet – like a child. _He_ suddenly feels the urge to walk her home, just to make sure she doesn't get kidnapped.

"Matsuri."

"Gaara." She preens, and for the first time, Gaara flinches away from her indignantly. She just drops his name, no honorifics, and somehow, some way, Matsuri has crossed the invisible barrier into Gaara's bubble. And Gaara really, really is _not_ comfortable.

"You need to leave." Without another word, Gaara stalks off, picking up his pace as he goes and as soon as he turns the corner, he is making a full sprint ahead where he eventually deems the speed inadequate and disappears in a storm of sand.

When he reappears, it's in the park. Right now, it isn't even that Gaara wants to see Machi; he just needs to be as far away from Matsuri as he possibly can. Something shifted when she called him out, he can't quite place it, other than that he suddenly feels… _naked._

For someone who's had a shield on for most of his life, naked isn't good. Naked is vulnerable. Vulnerable is fragile. Breakable. _Cold_. Gaara really doesn't like the cold. With swift steps towards the apartment complex, Gaara forgets about Matsuri, and instead lets his fingers find their way to the intercom that they've long since familiarized.

He waits patiently for a minute, shifting his weight from leg to leg every so often.

But Machi doesn't answer.

Maybe she fell asleep, Gaara thinks; after all, he's never stopped by this late. Or should he say, early, since it's probably already half past two. But still, reasoning doesn't stop disappointment from eating away at him, and he finds himself more disappointed than he should be. He lets himself contemplate sitting on the steps before he shakes off the ridiculousness of that thought. He is the Kazekage for fuck's sakes.

He buzzes again.

And again.

And aga-

"DO YOU SERIOUSLY THINK I SIT AROUND WAITING FOR YOU TO SHOW UP, KAZEKAGE-SAMA!?" Machi screeches through the intercom finally, cursing into the dark as she let out a moan of pain.

"Are you alright?" Gaara asks, bemused.

"No! I kicked the table, think I broke my shin." Another string of curses, and Gaara hears the door being buzzed open. "For fuck's sake…"

When a very amused Kazekage is greeted at the door, Machi has already calmed down and fixed up whatever she knocked over in the dark. How is she supposed to know that the Kazekage of all people would be showing up at this god forsaken hour and wake her from her peaceful slumber? In a mad scramble from her bed to the door, it is only expected that she kicks a few things along the way. "Hi! Sorry about earlier, come in!"

"You're alright?" Gaara asks monotonously, taking his usual spot in an armchair that faces the kitchen.

"Dandy." Machi shoots back with a yawn, locking the door behind him and finds herself a seat across the redhead. Gaara looks at her expectantly when she sits down, if not slightly confused. "What?"

Gaara only blinks at her.

It takes a minute, but Machi eventually understands his silent question and manages to send him a half-hearted glare. "Oh no, Kazekage-sama. All due respect, I'm not a Bed and Breakfast, and you've already disturbed my beauty sleep, so if you want coffee, you'll have to make your own."

With another yawn, Machi lays back onto the sofa, burying her face into the first pillow she reaches. In the meantime, she could've sworn that she heard a small whine emitting from the Kazekage's throat, and she might've giggled if she weren't so tired.

"I'm not moving from this couch, Kazekage-sama." She restates, already half gone again.

Shooting her one last passive-aggressive glare, Gaara pushes himself off the chair and sulks to the kitchen _so slowly_ , as if giving Machi a chance to stop him. Au contraire, she remains like a rock on the couch, briefly reminding the Kazekage of his own brother, and starts to drift off again.

It is only to the waft of a warm cup of Joe under her nose that Machi stirs again. Groggy cerulean eyes flutter open as she sits up, making Gaara lean back into his seat, hand still extended with her cup.

"Thanks, Kazekage-sama." the kunoichi mumbles, downing two mouthfuls before really waking up again. She makes a face. _Still bitter._

Gaara, on the other hand, doesn't seem to mind as he sips peacefully on his own. After a moment of silence, Machi speaks up, "what are you doing here so late?"

"I want you to come with me." Gaara abruptly replies with nothing leading in, causing Machi to cock her head in confusion.

"What?"

"The trip." He says, setting the cup on the coffee table with a soft clink.

"Why?" Drawing her brows together, Machi finally sits up straight. "What about Temari and Kankuro-san? Or ANBU?"

"Temari and Kankuro will still be my escorts. As you are very well aware, there still remains some distance between Sand and Konoha. I have requested for you and Matsuri to accompany me as well on the journey in the case of ambushes. We leave in a week." Gaara explains offhandedly, almost as if the entire trip doesn't actually matter all that much. Except that it is pretty freaking important, that the two greatest nations will reunite in an alliance stronger than ever, following the death and betrayal of the previous Kazekage. No big deal.

Machi's eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. Is she hearing right? "K-Kazekage-sama, I'm flattered, but I don't know if I qualify!" Gaara sighs, and relaxes like he plans to ignore her complaint, but a second frantic "Kazekage-sama!" makes it hard to do so.

"You're not the strongest or the fastest, but your abilities are unique and would come in handy should something happen." Tactful, that's Gaara in a nutshell, really.

Machi grumbles something, but Gaara simply lets her words fly over his head. It's late. He's tired. Talking isn't really his thing anyway. "I don't even have a say in this, do I?"

The young Kage shakes his head, causing his hair to dance…not that Machi notices or anything. The kunoichi sighs in resignation, and Gaara doesn't say anymore; he seems content to just be in her company as he sips away at his own creation. Cerulean eyes soften at his form: powerful, dignified, assured, but with just the slightest curl of the back that hints at vulnerability beneath it all… If only his armor would come down…

Machi shoots out a hand determinedly. The redhead blinks. "Shake my hand."

"What?"

"Shake my hand."

"Why?"

"Just shake my hand." Machi repeats, and only when she holds her gaze that Gaara cautiously extends his own. Then, in a ridiculously slow manner, his rough hand made contact with her warm one, and Machi lets out a frustrated groan. "No! Actually _shake my hand!"_

It takes a second, but when Gaara finally registers her request, he shakes his head yet again with a stubborn, "no."

"C'mon Kazekage-sama. I don't feel like we've officially met until you shake my hand." He just stares, so Machi continues. "If you can't trust me with even your hand, how are you to trust me with protecting you?"

"Apples and oranges."

With a soft, but clearly annoyed sigh, Machi gets up; Gaara follows suit. "I'm going to bed. I don't mean to be a bad host, but it's late." She starts to make her way towards the bedroom when, from the corner of her eyes, she sees Gaara head for the door. "No!"

He stops, offering her a blank gaze. "I mean, you're welcome to stay, Kazekage-sama, if you're comfortable here. It must be freezing out, and you look terribly tired as well."

He remains silent. "Kitchen's at your disposal." Machi continues, shuffling around to throw an extra blanket onto the couch. "Like, if you want. To stay, I mean. So um. Yeah. Goodnight."

With a face flushed with embarrassment and weariness, Machi quickly shuts her bedroom door, not wanting to endure the suspense. In any case, she shuffles over to the bed and shuts her eyes – the Kazekage can wait 'til morning.

The next time Machi opens the door, it is nearly noon, and Gaara is nowhere to be found. On the couch, the blanket is folded; therefore rending Machi unsure as to _if_ Gaara had spent the night. _It doesn't matter._ It doesn't.

* * *

Gaara doesn't come by for the next week; in fact, Machi has gotten no visitors at all until one early morning, her intercom buzzes.

"Coming, coming!" She yells to no one in particular, stumbling out of bed clumsily. "Hello?" She spits to the technology.

"Machi? What are you still doing?" comes an inpatient voice.

"Temari?" With her face turned towards the intercom, Machi starts make herself presentable. "Why are you here?"

"Why am I- oh for god's sakes Machi why am I here? We're meeting by the gate to go to the Konoha is why I am here!"

Oh. Shit.

"That's today?!" She cries, and actually begins to scramble.

"Yes! Gaara said he told you, and, oh, Jesus Christ, just buzz me up you idiot!"

With a weak chuckle, Machi does as she's told and runs to the bathroom to get ready. By the time Temari knocks on the door, she's just gathering the rest of her weapons.

"Tems!" She pauses with a bright and slightly frightened grin to open the door, and Temari brushes by her. Machi sweat-drops. "Heh, sorry."

As Machi grabs her belongings, Temari stands in the corner with arms leisurely across her chest, observing her friend. Machi remains oblivious, and it's only when they start to walk towards the gates that Temari couldn't hold it any longer. "Spill it. What's going on?"

Machi jumps a bit at the sudden outburst; frankly she's still in the process of waking up. "What?"

"Between you and my brother!"

Machi looks really puzzled now. "Nothing? He just flirts with me sometimes?"

"What!?"

"C'mon, you know how he is: awkward puppet-master by day, a smooth bastard by night." She laughs fondly, but Temari is not amused.

"Not him, you dolt. Gaara. _Gaara._ "

"Gaara?" Something's going on between her and Gaara? Machi doesn't even know.

"Yes, Gaara." Temari sighs, exasperated. All she wants is some answers. "I want to know why he makes occasional stops at your house late at night. I also want to know why Gaara didn't come home one night last week."

"Nothing! He just stops by for coffee and we'd talk, that's all." Machi explains, and oh. _Oh._ He _did_ spend the night. That is definitely …news.

"That's all." Temari repeats pointedly, as if daring Machi to lie to her face.

"That's all!" Machi cries, putting her hands up in defense.

"So you don't have feelings for him." Temari asks, but in that same pointed tone.

Machi immediately flushes at the mere thought of having romantic relations with _the_ Gaara of the Sand. "N-No! What makes you-"

"And he doesn't have feelings for you."

"No! I mean, I don't know! I'm not him, I-I-why are you doing this to me?"

"Machi, I don't need another Matsuri around, I don't." Temari begins, purposely not looking at her as she walks ahead, almost as if she were afraid to hear the truth. "And I need to know you're not just using me to get close to my brother. I realize he's become infinitely more popular after his encounter with the Akatsuki, but-"

"Woah woah, Temari, stop. I would never…" Machi promises, all blue eyes and furrowed brows, and the blonde couldn't help but soften just the slightest.

"Okay." She ponders for a second. "What happens if Gaara _does_ have feelings for you?"

Machi's steps falter for just a split second before she catches up again. "You're joking, right? Because I don't think that'll be an issue."

"Don't be too sure about that, Machi; Gaara is reserved, not stupid. He knows what he feels, and he has been…" She hesitates, trying to find the right word. "… _confused_ before."

"Confused how?"

"When he was first beginning to discover what love is, he um…" Machi's eyes are curious, but Temari doesn't seem very eager to share, because once the words leave her mouth, it becomes…real. "He thought he loved Matsuri, like a first love."

"He did?" Machi purses her lips. Something tugs at her a stomach a bit, but she shakes it off. Temari simply nods solemnly.

"She's the first girl to put her life in his hands like that, to open up to him and respect him. We knew it was going to happen in time." Temari laughs, almost bitterly. "What? Does that surprise you?"

Machi pauses; but then again, hindsight is 20/20. Sure enough, all the signs are there: Gaara trusting Matsuri with national matters, Matsuri constantly trying to be close with Gaara, Gaara being very protective of Matsuri against his siblings, etc. "I-I guess not." Hesitation. "So…what happened?"

"Matsuri became very dependent on Gaara." The blonde hisses, clenching her fists as her footsteps become heavier. "She doesn't train enough, which gets her into trouble, which makes Gaara risk his life too many times, and uses her association with Gaara to gain favors and whatnot. What's worse is that I don't even think she realizes this."

' _Of course,'_ Machi thinks, _'Gaara's been used as a weapon his entire life. Of course this is a touchy subject for Temari.'_ "Did you tell him this?"

"You bet I did; Kankuro too. But you know Gaara, I love him to death, but he's one stubborn little shit." A strained laughter escaped Temari's lips as she slows her pace. Machi notes that her friend is just stalling, for they're almost at the village gate; she can already make out the outlines of her traveling companions.

"So they love each other but no one's said anything?" Machi asks incredulously, though a part of her hates that she wants to know.

"They don't _love_ each other." The fan-wielder rolls her eyes. "Matsuri has a _crush,_ and Gaara was _confused._ Gaara is more like an older brother…he's a mentor to Matsuri. That's disgusting. That's like me having a relationship with Baki." Both girls shudder at the image that practically conjured itself.

Still, Machi ponders Temari's words for a bit, and by the time that the rest of the gang is just out of earshot, she realizes that Temari is, indeed, _probably_ correct on all counts. "So…how do you know Gaara is confused or that Matsuri just has a crush?"

"Call it a woman's intuition." Temari winks as they walk up to an impatient Kankuro, a bored Matsuri, and a nonchalant Gaara. Machi scrunches her nose as Temari's tone drops an octave or two. "Think about it."

 _What happens if Gaara_ _ **does**_ _have feelings for you?_

Right.

Machi clears her throat quickly before putting a smile back on her face. With a polite greeting, she effectively ends that conversation.

* * *

On the third day of traveling, Matsuri inhales and exhales, her chest heaving with every breath as the team flies past what seems like the hundredth thicket that lies between the Sand and Konoha. Her pants are beginning to get labored again and the whine that emits from her throat indicates to the group that they need to stop soon.

As Temari and Kankuro subtly (with dramatic eyerolls) predicted, Gaara jumps to a halt in the next small clearing they come across. Matsuri instantly slumps down on the damp grass.

"Damn it Gaara, this isn't a vacation!" Kankuro protests and Machi can't help but understands his sentiment; they've been stopping at least five times a day before making camp, and it's really delaying the travel, not to mention that the faster they arrive, the faster they can get proper rest. Still, the emotionless face of Sabaku no Gaara deters further argument, and his siblings both sit against the nearest tree trunks without another word.

"Take fifteen." The Kazekage curtly says, before disappearing into the trees again. Machi stands, looking to and from Temari and the trees with a worried expression; it doesn't take a genius to know that neither parties are too happy at this point, and she has a feeling that perhaps this happens more often than she sees.

"You heard him," Kankuro begins, making himself comfortable. "might as well relax a bit."

"But Kazekage-sama-"

"He'll be back soon. He always runs off when he knows we're annoyed with him," Temari reassures, but with a gentler tone. "You can't have a one-sided argument after all."

Machi, however, chews her bottom lip in hesitation. A part of her knows that it's none of her business, but the other part knows that if running off is Gaara's defense mechanism, then he most likely will want a release—and she can be it. Machi's decision is apparent in her eyes, for Temari sighs and nods.

"I'll be right back, I promise," and with that, Machi takes off, searching for just the flash of red amongst the miles and miles of trees.

It doesn't take long to find Gaara, for he now sits on a branch facing the river, back leaning against the trunk, letting a leg hang off leisurely. Machi lets herself fall back to the ground and approaches the water; she doesn't quite look up yet, though they are both painfully aware of each others' presence.

Gaara breaks the silence first, "You're quite fast at tracking people."

"Always follow the water, Survival 101." Machi beams, and only then does she allow her cerulean eyes to capture his emerald ones; his eyes are still passive, but they are definitely kinder than before. Gaara grunts a bit in response, but refuses to say more. Thankfully, Machi remains unfazed as she bends over to cup her hands at the cold liquid in order to take a sip. "What are you doing here alone?"

"I'm not." Gaara shoots back with no real animosity, directing the statement pointedly at the uninvited guest.

A pregnant pause follows. A slight movement on Machi's part makes Gaara still for a second, but just when he thinks that she's going to approach him, she sits down, still facing the river. She doesn't say anymore. He observes her form, lithe and relaxed, and is immediately on edge again.

She's odd. Unpredictable, even. One thinks she's going right, she turns left; she's dangerous, yes, and every part of him says to stay away. **Avoid at all cost**.

' _How hypocritical.'_ He thinks to himself.

"Why are you really here?" Gaara finds himself asking a few minutes later, effectively breaking the silence.

Machi stares at the water some more, concentrating on the ripples the river makes as it bends itself around rocks and debris effortlessly; her posture tenses from what the redhead could see. She seems to be carefully picking out her next words, and once she has, her voice comes out smooth, relaxed. "They care about you; everyone here, we care about you."

"…"

"I can't say I know how you feel, or know your past, because I haven't experienced it. I can't even tell you what love _is_ , but if there's one thing I have experienced, it's actually what love _isn't_." Machi breaths deeply, as if trying to sooth the worry lines in her face. Something is bothering her. Maybe she's reliving a memory. "You shouldn't be afraid of love when it _is_ , Kazekage-sama, especially it's often ephemeral."

Gaara replies flatly. "Get to the point."

"Damn it that _is_ my point!" Machi snaps, whirling around to catch his eyes, teal orbs that widen ever so slightly at the sudden shift in the atmosphere. "Temari, Kankuro, and Matsuri, and _god, especially_ Matsuri, they're not going to judge you if you talk to them. Sure, you'll come to disagreements sometimes, but they won't _hate_ you, just…stop running away."

"You can't know that." The redhead shoots back bitterly. After all, everybody ran away _from_ him, so why shouldn't he?

"I told you, I know what love _isn't_. And what these people are giving you is the opposite of that." She murmurs, breaking her gaze and allows her eyes to fall back onto the ever changing stream. "I know when people a _ctually_ care."

Another pause of silence follows, and the nature is suddenly quiet, hushed, immobile, with the exception of the rustles of the running river. Machi sighs softly; getting through the Kazekage is truly no simple feat, which puts him into the 'can't live with him can't live without him' category of Machi's mind. Finally, she stands up and pats herself down. "Do as you like, just don't run too far until you get lost."

The words seem to fly right past the boy, "Where are you going?"

"Back. Fifteen minutes are up."

* * *

"Finally!" Kankuro exclaims as he unceremoniously drops every piece of luggage on the ground of their hotel suite.

After roughly another day of travel, the team has arrived at Konoha without incident other than the fact that Gaara _really_ does not enjoy the cold. And by that he means anything less than the desert. In the meantime, they get to take the afternoon to relax before Gaara actually needs to speak with Tsunade, and everyone is more than grateful about that.

"Gaara-" Matsuri begins, only to have the Sand sibling's daggered eyes on her, so she quickly adds, "sensei, may I speak to you?" before the Kazekage even has the chance to set down his gourd.

"What about?" He loosens his sash, and the heavy gourd hits the ground with a loud 'thud.' Machi lets out an offhanded whine about the noise, but proceeds to sink into the couch next to Kankuro. Boy is she tired.

"Would it be alright if we do it in private, please?" Matsuri drags, body already turned towards the door. With a tired sigh, Gaara follows. Who is he to deny his pupil of anything? Except, well, you know.

As soon as the door clicks behind him, a heavy silence fills the air, and neither dared to draw the knife that cuts it. Matsuri shuffles her feet; Gaara stared expectantly. For what seems like a whole five minutes of almost-utterances, Gaara's patience is finally tested.

"Please make this fast Matsuri, I'm exhausted." The redhead confesses with every part of his body protesting his remote wakefulness. "And if it's about the other day, forget it."

"I can't forget it Gaara-sensei!" Matsuri immediately shoots back. "I can't even get it out of my mind. I-I-" she swallows deeply, hands clutched together against her chest. She's going to do it. It's a jump. It's a jump where gravity takes over and you free fall without knowing where you'd end up or whether you'd even be alive. There is no turning back. Should she? Will she? An eternity seems to pass until finally…

Matsuri jumps.

"I like you. I've liked you for a long time and-and- and she, _she_ comes around and suddenly you don't even acknowledge me anymore?" Her words linger in the cold air and the redhead instantly shifts uncomfortably.

"You like me." Gaara repeats slowly, his hands unconsciously fisting and releasing. Everything is blurry, cloudy, unfocused. It is uncomfortable. He is uncomfortable. Soft skin suffocates. warm, too warm, beneath the sand armor. "Like me. _Me._ You _like_ _**me.**_ _"_

"Yes Gaara-sensei, I like you! Why is it so hard for you to accept that?" Matsuri trails off with the smallest whimper as tears threaten to prickle her eyes. Why can't he just answer her? "Is it because of her?" Matsuri whispers, a look of disgust overtaking her teary orbs. "Is she the one confusing you, saying that I'm not good enough?" No, Matsuri won't even say her name—that makes her real. She doesn't deserve acknowledgement.

"She's never said such a thing-"

"-Then why can't you just answer me!?" Matsuri cries. "Just tell me you hate me. Do it!"

"I don't hate you, Matsuri. You're important to me and I'll always protect you." Gaara reassures, but his gentleness only riles her up even more.

"Are those your words or Naruto's?" When Gaara doesn't respond immediately, Matsuri takes off in the opposite direction. She just wants to get away—needs to get away.

"Matsuri-" The Kazekage calls out in vain as he stares at the brunette's retreating back. Maybe this is what Naruto is talking about, maybe he should just…stop thinking, and _do._

Without another thought, he follows his student; he catches up quickly enough, and with a hand outstretched, he grabs at her, forcing the smaller girl to turn.

"Gaara-sensei-" Matsuri gasps.

For Gaara, the protective instinct takes over, and before he knows it, he is pulling Matsuri in, rough fingers tightly clenching each of her arms. Taking his action as encouragement, Matsuri gets on her tiptoes, and softly, gently, all-too-overwhelmingly, pushes her lips onto his. Gaara isn't thinking anymore. This is all too much. He's never done this, what is he even doing? Slowly, however, his human instinct envelops him, and Gaara finds himself pushing back into her dryly. Is this what a kiss is like?

His lips feel chapped, like sandpaper on sandpaper, but he follows what he's seen other people do, and just prays to the gods that he isn't doing a bad job.

It is then, when a gasp interrupts the pair. Gaara instantly releases the girl to whirl around to their new company, and Matsuri bounds happily on her feet.

Shock.

Confusion.

Anger.

No, these are not Machi's emotions, but Temari's. The trio stares at the duo, mouth agape and mind blank. Temari isn't ready for this, isn't ready for her brother to give his life away. One look at him, and she knows he's in deep shit. This is purely one-sided, but even more importantly-

"I-I'm so sorry to interrupt you we- I- we thought we heard commotion but um-" Machi stumbles, hands pointing at every which direction with wild gestures. Nothing makes sense right now, so Machi does the one thing she knows best – she retreats.

With a strong sort of pain bubbling in her chest, Machi backs off into their shared suite, and shuts the door behind her. Temari hates every moment of it.

"So…is this like a thing now?" Kankuro tentatively breaks the silence while hesitantly nudging his seething sister. "You two are…you know, a thing?"

"No we uh…um." Gaara clears his throat roughly, using the back of his hand to wipe at his lips. He and Matsuri share a look.

"We haven't talked about it yet." Matsuri quips, much too pleased for Temari's liking.

"I hope you're happy with yourself." Is all Temari manages before stomping off, willing herself to not lose control in front of her peers.

"Machi?" Temari's tentative voice rings fuzzily in her ears as Machi sinks herself further into the mattress in hopes that it will swallow her up. "Machi, I'm coming in."

A soft click of the door, then the bed dips. Machi opens an eye to see Temari looking down at her compassionately.

"You fell for my brother."

It isn't a question, but a statement, and Machi whines a quick "no."

"Machi."

The brunette sits up to be at eye-level with the blonde. "I didn't. At least, I didn't know I did. It's…" Machi pauses to fiddle with her fingers in contemplation; then she shakes her head. "It's just a little crush though. I just panicked back there, but don't worry, I'll get over it quickly."

"Machi, I didn't say it's bad I just-"

"No, no, you're absolutely right! I'm sorry. I'll sleep it off tonight, and I'll be good as new for tomorrow's meeting with the Hokage. I have you as a friend, and that's all I need. I'd never step over you to get to Kazekage-sama." Machi says quickly, and though her mouth puts it lightly, she feels heavy. Tired. "I don't want to lose you over something stupid like this… you're important to me."

"Machi." Temari says sternly this time, effectively stopping her rambling with kind eyes. "You're not going to lose me because you fell for my brother. As long as you have his best interest at heart, I'm okay with it." By then, Machi's already looking down once more, picking at her nails. "It's going to be okay! I don't- I don't need you to get over him, I'll still be here for you. I just hate seeing you hurting like this."

"I'm not. I just…"

"Just get some sleep, alright?"

"Yeah."

With that, Temari shuts off the lights and turns to the door, only to be stopped by a gentle tug on her skirt. "Yeah?"

"Why don't you uhm, you know, I mean, can you, like, stay with me tonight?" Temari raises a brow, and Machi immediately drops her head. She's picking at her nails again. "You don't have to I just uhm-"

"No, it's fine, I can stay." Temari says quickly, circling her arms around the younger girl as she sits back down. Machi instantly sinks into her warmth and lifts the blanket to cover them both. "It's just, you're not telling me things. What is it? What's bothering you?"

"Uhm."

"Machi."

"It's a long story."

"I'm here all night." Temari presses.

"I, uh. Remember the first time you came over for dinner? The first day you took me to meet the Kazekage?" Temari nods. "Then you asked me why I don't have any pictures, uhm, of my f-family?"

"Mhm."

"Um." She's chewing on her bottom lip now, making it stark red and raw; her nail-picking becomes harsher, and if Temari presses real close, she'd be able to feel the light trembles of her body. "My dad died, uh, when I was really little, don't remember much of him. My stepdad came into the picture after that. He was just a normal salesman, didn't make much, but somehow, he has the money to bring my mom and me gifts, take us on trips, all that."

Machi shudders as she curls up tighter, as if preparing herself for the next bit of the story. A shaky breath escapes her lips. "We found out he's gambling on the side, and naturally, things go bad – he starts losing. He lost his job, gambled things in the house, eventually furniture, and then, the house. When there's nothing left, he turned to alcohol, and that's when-when-"

She isn't crying. No tears are falling, but it seems as if someone is knocking the air out of her lungs repeatedly. Machi is hyperventilating. "Machi, Machi! Oh honey." Temari pulls the girl into her lap, gently running her fingers through the soft, brown locks.

When Machi calms, she shuts her eyes and continues… like a warrior.

"We lived for a few years like that, an endless cycle of yelling and beatings, then my mom died, and my stepdad got killed by the people he owed money to, which, good riddance." A smirk tugs at Machi's lips, as if allowing her a moment of sick satisfaction. "You once asked me why I don't have pictures, it's because I hate them. Every single person who is supposed to treat me right—those are the people who are supposed to be in those pictures. I don't need those constant reminders."

"I read your file. It says your mom is MIA, why do you say she died?" Temari softly interrupts.

Machi's breath hitched. Not only did Temari look her up, but now she has to relive the most painful moment of her life. "I. It's the only way I can move on. I believe she died. I have to. How else can I cope with the knowledge that the only person who is supposed to protect me _left_ me to a monster?"

Temari doesn't say anything, she merely nods. After all, she understands all too well.

"I was, needless to say, a wreck. I got sick. Really sick. One day, when I was on a mission, I killed this bandit, only to find out that she had a son. As terrible as she was, I had just subjected her son to a lifetime of loneliness. I couldn't cope. I just, sort of, collapsed on the battlefield. My teammate at the time, Haru, he saved me. He kind of put back the pieces and we became…a thing. Then I got better. I stood up for myself, I spoke my mind more, and…" She falters. Now Temari can _really_ feel her trembling. "…and Haru didn't like that. He liked to be the savior, you know? Had a hero complex. So when I finally talked back to him, he-he beat me, until…until I just couldn't. He could've killed me."

Machi gasped, and with a worried glance, Temari ushers her to stop, only to receive a stubborn headshake. Then tentatively, Temari prompts,

"What happened? He stopped?"

Machi throws her back and laughs for the first time in her story, and yet, Temari hates it. How can one summon such a cold, bitter laughter?

"No, your brother killed him."

Temari suddenly freezes. "Gaara? What?"

"Your dad, the Kazekage at the time, loved Haru. Thought very highly of him, which, no offense, big surprise. He hired Haru to kill Gaara-sama, and the rest is history."

Silence follows for a moment then. It's a lot of information to digest, and the silence continues until Machi breaks it again.

"Gaara-sama saved me, unknowingly, you know. I was with a guy, then a girl, after that." Temari raised a brow, not judgmentally, just surprised.

Machi just laughed. "The point is, they didn't hit me, but they abused me emotionally. They wanted to know what I was doing and when I was doing it. I was theirs, in a sense, not able to do a thing without permission. I didn't love them, so it hurt less when they left me for new toys." She laughed again, bitterly. "I guess you end up falling for people like your parents, because the abuse was what I thought was love. I didn't know anything else. I was lonely, and I was aching to feel what I felt with Haru in the beginning again. Then I met you. You gave me friendship and company, and you made me better. Then you took me to see Gaara-sama and…"

Temari nods, so Machi moves on.

"He was kind to me. So kind." Machi breathes with a smile, the kind where crinkles peek out by her cerulean eyes and dimples overtakes her cheeks and Temari's heart nearly blossomed at how genuine it is. "Every time he comes by at night, I'd make coffee, and he's give me a little bit of himself, and I'd do the same in return – even just the little things. Before I knew it, nights aren't so lonely anymore, y'know? Eventually, I begin falling asleep on the couch, waiting for the intercom to ring." She laughs. This time, it's not bitter, but gentle. "It's pathetic, but I never want the intercom to stop ringing. Tonight, I just got the gut feeling it won't ring ever again."

When Temari doesn't say more, Machi finds herself falling asleep to her friend's rhythmic breathing, and soon enough, they are both out cold.

* * *

" _Cat."_

 _Machi's brows draw up lightly in surprise, the cup of coffee long forgotten beside her. "Really. Most people go with dogs. Why cats?"_

" _It's my turn." Gaara says colorlessly, but the brunette doesn't miss the slight mischief in his eyes._

 _As per Machi's suggestion to get to know her new friend better, they are currently half-way into a game of 20 Questions at 3 in the morning. The Kazekage himself has confessed to not seeing the point of the game. 'Why twenty question?' he had asked, 'What's so important about the number 'twenty?' Why not call it 'Questions?' And if the game is just about asking questions, why is it a game at all?'_

 _Machi had to explain that this is merely another version of the game, with the original being a guessing game with 20 chances of hints. Still, the Kazekage remains firm on his position, but acquiesces to go along with it as long as Machi could offer him another cup of coffee._

 _So far she has learned that the leader of the Sunagakure has an affinity for swings, likes watching the sunrise, enjoys the juice of Prickly Pear Cactus fruits, abhors screaming children, can snack on grilled gizzards all day long, prefers soft mattresses even despite not sleeping much, appreciates primary colors, and secretly sneaks up to the roof sometimes to avoid paperwork. And he likes cats, too, apparently._

 _He's… surprisingly normal._

 _Except the gizzard part, because that is disgusting, and Machi told him as much._

" _Ask away, Kazekage." She grins, leaning forward, resting her chin atop her interlaced fingers. Her elbows wiggle against the coffee table in anticipation._

" _Why is your house filled with stuffed animals?" He decides to ask, pupil-less aquamarine eyes scanning the plushie covered space around him with good-natured mirthful judgment._

" _Because they're soft and huggable and they keep me company." The brunette responds shamelessly. Then, without a beat, "Why cats?"_

 _Gaara doesn't hesitate this time, "because they love selectively. You have to earn their love, whereas dogs love everyone. A cat's love is true."_

 _Machi laughs, appreciative of his honestly and the double entendre, "Should the Kazekage be saying that?"_

 _The red-head merely shrugs._

* * *

The next morning is hard to wake up to. With a throbbing head in an all too cold room, Temari sits up to the alarm, and is immediately on edge when she feels something move against her. She turned, only to find Machi balled up, shivering lightly to the chill but otherwise much more at peace than she was the night before. Temari pats at her hair gently and wants nothing more than to cuddle back with her best friend. Instead, she slips out carefully and pads to the shared bathroom, only to find Gaara already in there, brushing his teeth.

"Move." The blonde mumbles, nudging her brother aside before hogging the mirror and grabbing her hairbrush. Gaara wordlessly obliges, aquamarine eyes down-casted. The silence is most unbearable as Temari takes the ties off her locks, brushes them roughly, then squares her hair into fours before tying it back up again.

It was when Temari is putting toothpaste on her toothbrush that Gaara speaks up.

"How is everything?" He drawls vaguely, almost timidly. He doesn't know what happened, barely comprehends what _he_ did last night, let alone why Machi ran off – but it doesn't take a genius to guess that something's off. He doesn't _get it._

Temari merely rolls her eyes and stuffs the toothbrush into her mouth. She has nothing to say to him, so she finishes brushing and stalks out to the living area.

"Hey Temari." Kankuro greets from the couch, and the blonde acknowledges him with a nod in return. "How's Machi?"

"Alright now," is all she says, sparing Kankuro the vivid details out of respect for Machi, then adds, "I think."

Kankuro and Temari are sipping away at their tea when Gaara joins them, almost tipping the balance of the room.

"Hey," Kankuro waves weakly, "sleep well?" Temari holds in a scoff. Kankuro is always the bigger person.

Gaara nods and is about to say something when the door clicks open, and a red eyed Machi stumbles into the room. Temari is instantly by her side, pulling her into a warm embrace as Machi nuzzles into her neck.

"Hey Mach." Kankuro murmurs, as if he would scare her away if he speaks any louder; Kankuro already has a hunch. Kankuro is correct.

Machi smiles softly into Temari's shoulder and mumbles a quick " 'Morning."

Gaara suddenly feels twitchy, like his body physically cannot stop moving. Closer. He wants to be closer. "Machi." He says roughly, voice thick with nerves, and is immediately disappointed when she pointedly avoids his gaze. "Machi." He tries again.

"Will you shut up?" Temari snaps, and Gaara has never looked so affronted in his life. It made Machi look up though.

"Hi." She replies softly, looking back down. Then, into Temari's shoulder, she muffles "I'm going to make some coffee."

The blonde tentatively lets go, and just as Machi is about to pull away, Gaara beats her to the coffee maker.

"Please, sit. I'll make some."

The siblings both falter in surprise; because he's…he's Gaara. Gaara doesn't _do_ that. It becomes an entire list of things Gaara doesn't do.

He doesn't speak like that. All soft and proper and apologetic.

He doesn't _do_ **apologetic.** Gaara doesn't apologize, not in empathy.

Gaara certainly doesn't _offer_ to make _coffee._ What kind of demon took over his body?

Regardless, he carefully measures enough water and coffee powder to make two cups, and once he turns on the coffee machine, he promptly returns to his team, hands antsy for anything to steady them. Everyone watches him with curious eyes.

Sabaku no Gaara is nervous. (He also doesn't do nervous.)

Machi, however, decides to spare him, as she breaks the silence first. "I'm sorry about last night."

Gaara snaps up, surprised. "What for?"

"We didn't mean to spy, and running off after was very unprofessional of me. I apologize." Machi says so formally and so steadily that it sounded almost like a chant, memorized and repeated over and over until it's perfect.

"N-No. I didn't- That wasn't anything." Gaara assures, and when Machi doesn't respond, he shuffles over to fuss once more at the coffee maker.

"I know you mean well," Machi starts, letting the sudden courage speak for her. This has to end right now, before Gaara leaves to stand before the national assembly, head up in clouds. She barely notices Temari and Kankuro shuffle out. "You don't have to pretend with me, Kazekage-sama; after all, we're friends, are we not?"

Gaara freezes. "Friends?"

And suddenly, everything crashes back down for Machi, what if Gaara hadn't even consider her- "I-I don't mean to be presumptuous I-"

"No!" Gaara turns quickly, eyes wide and frantic as he places himself before the girl "no, we are, I assure you, please."

Machi is now eye-level with the Kazekage, letting herself be coaxed by determined sea-foam eyes. "Yeah." She breathes, letting the debris in her mind settle, "Yeah, ok, friends."

When Gaara becomes sure that she is not going to contradict him, he does the one thing that makes Machi gasp out in surprise.

He holds out his hand.

"A-Are you sure?" She presses, eyes flying all over the Kazekage's passive features—his face reveals nothing.

"Friends, are we not?" He says, quieter than he's ever said anything, and Machi lets herself to, once again, be coaxed by the hint of a tilt at the edge of his lips.

Then slowly, but ever so carefully, she slips her hand into his.

And it was foreign, so _weird_ and _foreign_ , the way his hand feels. It was baby soft, with the lack of contact to the outside world, but it was chilled, almost cold, in a comforting sort of sense. It felt good, Machi's overheated palm against his cool one. Gaara, too, seem to realize the magnificence of the moment, for he, for the first time, bites down a smile.

And Machi feels important, important to someone, needed and wanted. Gaara trusts her. Her!

The gesture itself is a silent oath: to protect and to let be protected in return. And it's more than enough. If Gaara finds happiness in Matsuri, then Machi is more than happy to be at his side, if only to serve her Kage.

The intercom will ring again.

It's alright.

* * *

It's not alright.

It hurt, more than anything when Matsuri emerges from Gaara's room 10 minutes later. While Machi has already accepted the fact that Matsuri is the one, knowing and seeing, just isn't quite the same.

No, no, she is going to be happy today. There is no use mourning what couldn't be anyway, she'll pick herself up like she always does, like she always will.

So when Gaara, Kankuro, and Temari all left to see the Hokage, and Matsuri with them, Machi was left to stroll the streets of Konoha all on her own.

She's only beginning to sit down in a ramen shop for lunch when a booming laughter interrupts her darkened thoughts.

"Hey! Are you new!? Ichiraku's the best isn't it!?" The voice shouts excitedly.

"I haven't had the chance to try." Machi smiles at the bright presence. He's blond, dressed top to bottom in heinous orange, but welcoming…warm. Machi instantly likes him.

His name is Naruto, she discovers a moment later – Uzumaki Naruto, future Hokage, and the greatest ninja Konoha has to offer, according to him.

In Naruto's insistent presence, it becomes easier to contain the darkness within her mind, for he is anything but, and damn it he will make you absorb his sunshine. He tells her his life story without so much a second glance, and she basks herself in the warmth of his acceptance, her heart aching with so much of it.

By the end of lunch, they had shared their ramen and an extra plate of naruto, and Naruto had declared himself the best tour guide Konoha has ever known.

And he's sweet, so so sweet and lovely and nice that Machi just can't help being drawn to him. And he's affectionate too, like the embodiment of happiness, as he throws an arm around her without so much as a second thought. He listens when she speaks, listens like she matters, and fills the silences with his loud, obnoxious stories. And Machi knows, _knows,_ that she'd never let her new friend walk out of her life without a fight. Whoever fortunate enough to catch this man's attention would be a set for life.

Then, Machi doesn't even know what happened. One minute they were throwing pebbles into the river, and the next, hiding _in_ it to scare off children by popping out of the water randomly. Somewhere along the line, they picked peaches off an old man's overhanging trees, ate some and threw the spoiled ones onto the Uchiha compound (Sasuke hadn't been very pleased, no), and, with Machi sitting on Naruto's shoulders, they painted obscene doodles onto an abandoned academy's walls.

That is probably how, by late afternoon, Machi and Naruto are both damp, splashed with paint, and her on his shoulders as they walk back towards the Hokage's tower. They don't even make it half way there in such state when Gaara and Temari appear before them, the former frowning, the latter amused.

"You have a good day then?" Temari speaks up, tone teasing, making Machi blush in embarrassment to be standing before her Kage like this.

"Yeah, was fun, wasn't it?" Machi asks, almost shyly, earning an enthusiastic nod from Naruto, who slides her off, his hands gentle and too familiar on her waist despite his overly eager demeanor. "It's the best day I've had in a while!" With that, he plants a wet, sloppy kiss right on her head. "I can't believe you guys have been keeping my future wife from me! No one has played pranks with me since I can remember!"

"Naruto," Machi giggles, squirreling out of his strong grasp yet pushing closer to him in the process, "Stop it!"

"Machi." The laughter, the amusement, suddenly, everything stills. Everyone stills. No one, not even Naruto misses the cold anger that claws out from the Kazekage's unrelenting tone. Even Temari takes a step away; she knew her brother had been annoyed at not being able to find Machi, but this? This was unexpected. "You led me to trust you, how can you be defacing Konoha while we negotiate for peace? Is that how you wish for the Sand to appear? How dare you sabotage our hard-earned truce?!"

Color drains from the brunette's pale flesh. _How -_ "Are you kidding me? Naruto and I were just-"

Machi doesn't even get to finish, for just the mention of Naruto sends a dangerous air spinning around Gaara.

"Traitor," he spits bitterly, the swirls away in a storm of sand. Where Naruto and Machi stand, it becomes unclear who he was addressing.

* * *

 **Another one up! I've been working hard, please leave a review, they do make my day :)**

 **Shoutout to Ana for always leaving one !**


	4. Ice Cold

"You're wrong, you know? You're completely overreacting!" Machi bites as she follows Gaara into his room, slamming the door shut behind her. "None of it warrants your … _this!_ They were childish pranks, nothing more! No one even filed a complaint! Naruto is a trusted member of-"

"I don't care what Naruto is." Gaara seethes, whirling around, his teal eyes narrowing in a way that hints at the darkness beneath them. " _You_ are not a trusted member. _Of anywhere!_ "

At those words, the arm that Machi was gesturing with suddenly falls limp at her side.

She had thought. And this morning. And Naruto.

"No, I guess not. I guess I never was." Her shoulders dropped. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't show weakness before him. That's the worst thing she could do.

"I'm glad you understand," Gaara hisses as sand rips the door off its hinges, "I've arranged another place for you to stay, whether you decide to go or not is entirely up to you. But you will not stay here, where important national matters will be discussed."

Machi opens her mouth. Then closes it. There is nothing more to say.

She lost.

* * *

The way home is silent, and not the comfortable kind, either.

Gaara leads the way while Machi trails as far back as physically possible without being separated from the group; the air tenses with every command made and every word exchanged between them. For three days Machi stayed at a separate establishment, refusing visits from anyone who cared to see her and refusing to leave herself. The following three days are even worse, just staring at the Kazekage's retreating back like a shadow she can never reach.

Even Matsuri has the decency to stay silent, and Machi finds herself somehow always within arm length of Temari. At least she still has her, she thinks. At least Temari will always be there, even when it seems like the whole world is against her. A small part of her wonders whether Naruto would be too.

When they make camp for the third night, the tension has begun to dissipate just the slightest bit, and though Machi suspected it was due to the fatigue of the team, she can't say for certain. In fact, she sticks with saying nothing at all. There is no need to reignite the anger in the Kazekage's eyes, and the best way to do so is to completely disappear; maybe Kankuro was right – you can't fight a one-sided battle. So Machi erases herself – her chakra, her scent, her presence – as she tends to the fire she was assigned to build at the mouth of a cave that Temari had chosen for the night.

Once that was done, she moves to allow the others to gather around the fire as Matsuri breaks out the food that Konoha had so kindly gifted them for their journey. The slight cheer was back at the sight of food, and Machi doesn't let herself feel the tinge of disappointment when no one notices that she has quietly slipped away.

She doesn't sulk – no, that would be childish – she just sits in silence, staring out at the night sky and wishes on the stars that the air won't be too cold tonight. She has no intention of going back towards the inner parts of the cave, back to somebody who turns a moment of weakness into treachery of her beloved village.

She isn't sure for how long she spaced out, but from the looks of the darkened sky and the chill that has since set into the air, Machi would say she's been out longer than she had intended. Turns out that wishes on a star are just that – wishes. The wind has picked up as the moon rises, so now, at the mouth of the cave, the unrelenting handiwork of the wind country cuts easily through the thin fabrics on her body, making her curl with a hiss. A part of her suddenly misses Temari, even though, logically, the wind-user is but a few feet away.

Despite all the unnecessary drama that Machi thinks she probably could have avoided, there _was_ a simpler time. After she got back on her feet and out of her previously abusive relationships, she spent nearly two years of her life in solitude, training, taking on missions, paying visits to the local animal shelter, or just spending the lazy day on the edge of Sand's borders where runs a small trickling river. It was there where she met a tattered Temari, just coming back from a mission. Machi immediately smiled timidly after having spotted and been spotted by a fellow comrade, and despite her roughed-up appearance, the blonde smiled back and together, Temari's arm thrown lazily around her neck, Machi supported her all the way home.

"Don't do that." A voice suddenly snapped her out of her reverie. "Temari and Kankuro find it ridiculously annoying."

"What?" Machi shoots back with well-masked alarm after being so rudely interrupted. A pair of black ninja sandals and maroon pants met her eye-line. She didn't bother looking further up.

"You know what. We are not your enemies." Gaara almost hisses and a small smile nearly slips out of Machi because somewhere amidst the complaint lies an acknowledgement of her abilities. She is good enough – the best in the village if you will. She could completely stop existing as far as he's concerned if she truly wanted to, and even the Kazekage himself cannot hope to find her.

And perhaps a small part of the redhead is afraid of that.

Machi drops her jutsu. Gaara doesn't leave.

"What now? I thought you were done being messenger for your siblings?" The brunette retorts, curling back into her previous position, hooking her chin over her arms. The sight only sets Gaara off all over again, for, hunched over with her knees to her chest, Machi looks almost … sacrificial. And someone like her has no right to go around looking so vulnerable. "Go on then, tell Temari and Kankuro that the next time, they can just confront me themselves." Machi bites, and the underlying meaning does not go unheard by the redhead.

But seeing her in the fetal position, Gaara simply couldn't bring himself to snap at her, to tell her that he doesn't take orders from her – especially not with the tone she's using.

Instead, he settles for, "do that again and I will hold you down with sand until sunrise."

With green eyes flashing, he turns his heels and leaves her in peace. Machi isn't the slightest bit fazed by his threats – he wouldn't actually go through with them – but her body does begin to ache after the day's exertion. With a deep sigh, she pushes herself off the cold hard ground and reluctantly joins the rest of her teammates.

The fire has since dimmed quite a bit, and only the slightest hint of her shadows can be seen reflecting on the cavern walls. The Kazekage's eyes have closed, and he sits stiffly against the wall, legs crossed in an Indian fashion, his gourd on his right and Matsuri on his left– he doesn't budge when she enters. Ignoring him, Machi slithers up next to Temari and crawls under her blankets. Suddenly, a part of her feels almost smug – judging by the temperature of Temari's blanket, she had been asleep for a good while, there is no way she sent Gaara after her. At that, the Kazekage shifts, feeling her gaze on him, before Machi curls up against her friend, leaving Temari to wrap her arms around her waist on instinct.

* * *

Temari wakes pleasantly the next morning, not with a start like she usually does on missions. Then, almost instinctively, she whips her head in the direction of her brothers – mostly Gaara, but god knows how stupid Kankuro is at times. Judging by his posture alone, Temari knows immediately that the young Kazekage has been awake for a while – if he even slept last night.

"You don't have to do that, y'know, be so cautious around her," The blonde whispers, "she never meant any harm."

As expected, Gaara remains still as ever, but Temari knows he heard, and that's all that matters.

* * *

" _What's wrong with you?" Kankuro asked heatedly as Gaara picked up the speed even more. Granted, it didn't stop Kankuro from keeping up with him, but the point was well made – or so Gaara thought. Then again, his brother is nothing if not persistent, and the younger's insistent silence was thoroughly ignored. "She's my friend too, and from what I heard, what she did didn't warrant any of this."_

" _Do you want the namesake of Sunagakure to be tainted before we even spread it? Do you wish for war?" came a calm reply._

 _He accelerated once more._

 _Kankuro chased. "We both know you're being overdramatic. Sure, it's not the best image to be spreading about the Sand, but we both know that the Hokage would not have taken it negatively, especially if she was with Naruto."_

" _I don't care who she was with." Gaara growled, "She broke my trust and had to be dealt with accordingly."_

" _Accordingly means locking her away for three days?"_

" _I did no such thing – she chose to lock herself in."_

" _Perhaps, but you might as well have. We both know what this is about."_

" _No, you only think you know what this is about." With that, Gaara made a sharp turn, causing Kankuro to lose a few yards on his brother and thus have to work twice as hard to catch up for the next few seconds. Once he did, and with a glance that the girls were still a safe distance away, Kankuro smacked his brother. Squarely and on the head. The split second after, sand exploded from the gourd and sent him flying._

" _I've always been on your side because your were able to separate your decisions from your feelings," Kankuro started darkly when he caught up a minute later, a cut on his cheek, "don't disappoint me."_

* * *

A soft moan snaps Temari out of her trance, and she looks down to the younger girl curled up against her, trying to bury deeper into the sheets to make up for the sudden loss of heat. This prompts Temari enough to lie back down, a thin smile on her chapped lips as she strokes Machi's brunette hair.

Eyelids fluttering, Machi wakes, purring softly at the feeling of gentle tugs. "Mornin' Tem." She mumbles, her kitten-like voice making Temari smile.

"Hey, you hungry? You didn't eat a thing last night." The blonde's voice softens, and Machi's heart nearly breaks from how much she loves this girl.

"Bit yeah."

Gaara's eyes open at that, but he doesn't look up. In fact, he is content with staring holes into the ground as his sister crawls over to her rucksack, digging out some riceballs from last night and handing them over.

"You're too good to me." Machi murmured, munching on it enthusiastically – her stomach was just beginning to ache from the lack of food.

Without so much as a sideways glance at Gaara, Temari replies, "You deserve someone to be good to you."

* * *

" _I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"_

 _A loud smack echoes through the room. A twelve year old Machi drops to the ground, a hand cradling the sting on her cheek._

" _You have some nerve serving me this," Haru hisses venomously, rough fingers clutching a burnt piece of fish. It was Haru's favorite, and Machi had picked it up on the way home from her mission in the Fire Country where streams run confidently through the trees unlike the meager waters here in the Hidden Sand. Still, the fish must have dried up on the journey, causing the ends to burn faster than an exhausted Machi had predicted._

 _Nevertheless, Haru did not tolerate imperfection – she was at fault. "Haru I'm really sorry I-"_

" _Shut up!" He flips the tray before him, toppling the steaming bowl of soup that Machi had painstakingly prepared out of fish heads and bones. The hot broth splashes carelessly onto her skin, searing the tender flesh and the cerulean-eyed kunoichi forces herself to bite down a cry the best she can – Haru doesn't like it when she makes noise._

 _He sneers down at the pathetic lump on the floor. "Waste of space. Get up and get out of my sight. Just knowing you're here disgusts me."_

 _Nodding quickly, Machi scrambles to her feet. She erases her presence, her chakra, and her smell and bolts for her room. As soon as she is out of sight, Haru won't even know she's there._

* * *

"What did I do wrong?" Machi asks, her falsely chipper voice carrying itself through Kankuro's messy workroom. She examines a vial of poison nonchalantly, tossing it in the air and watching the color change just a bit. Her legs kick out from the work surface where she sits, her kunai pouch by her side. From Kankuro's point of view, she seems very much like a child.

Winter has since melted into summer and the unbearable heat in the Wind country has left all the Sand dwellers on edge. Even with a fan running on its highest setting, Machi is sweating through her thin shirt, and Kankuro has long since abandoned all but his pants.

"You're disturbing my creation – the mixture needs to set before it can become fatal." The older man replies, a tinge of annoyance in his voice as he snatches the bottle from the brunette.

"Not the poison, idiot. Gaara."

At the mention of his younger brother, Kankuro looks up. "What?"

"Why does he hate me?"

"Who's the idiot here? Gaara doesn't hate you." The puppet-master snorts, using a tong to rustle around the millions of needles currently soaking in a tub of purple and undoubtedly very poisonous concoction.

"Really? Because I've talked to him all of about five times in the last six months, and all of them have been about missions." Machi grabs a tube full of green, shaking it – it bubbles.

The hairs on Kankuro's neck stand. "How did you only have five missions in the past six months? I've had at least three times that!" He snatches the green tube from her prying fingers as well, huffing.

"That's what you took out of that? Seriously?" Machi grumbles incredulously, this time grabbing a yellow tube –poison– and a blue tube –antidote– and dumping them both into a bigger beaker. Almost instantly, green fumes begin to fill the room.

"WHAT THE _FUCK!_ " Kankuro screeches, sprinting over to plug the beaker with whatever he can – in this case, a scroll – to stop the fumes from spreading further. "Are you trying to kill us both!?"

"It's harmless! The antidote counteracts the poison!" Machi argues, unfazed by her little science experiment.

"Since when do you know poison? Get out! Get out!" Kankuro yelps as he pulls the girl off his worktable, shoving her hastily out the door, not even giving her the chance to grab the kunai pouch that she took off to sit more comfortably. Much to her dismay, as soon as the door opens, the Kazekage himself already has a fist in the air, ready to knock. By then, Kankuro is already in motion, and Machi is very effectively pushed right against the soft fabrics of the Kage robe, face flushing in embarrassment.

Gaara glares.

"K-Kazekage-sama." Machi chokes out as Gaara instinctively reaches out to steady her, a hand on her waist. And in the same motion he pushes her right off him. "I-I'm so sorry, forgive me." Without meeting his eyes at all, she bows deeply, dashing off before he gets a chance to berate her.

"What brings you here Gaara?" Kankuro asks good naturedly as his brother enters, eyes narrowed and arms crossed.

"What was that all about?" Gaara growls, voice low in his throat.

"Hm? Machi?" The puppet-master groans at the disaster his friend created, and his face pales at the thought of making a new batch since the current poison and antidote has been so wastefully neutralized. "Nothing, she just comes around sometimes, messing with my work like they're her toys."

"Then why do you let her continue to come?"

Kankuro raises a brow. Across the room sits his very passively confused younger brother. "Same reason you gave her five missions in the last six months, I'd assume."

"What do you mean?" A little part of Kankuro is milking the torment, for Gaara seems to get more and more frustrated as the conversation goes on. Hey, little victories are better than none.

"Because we _like_ her." He deadpans, going back to grind up some herbs – always start with the antidote.

"Perhaps you do, because I feel nothing for her. Her insolence and lack of abilities simply make her unsuitable for most missions, is all." Gaara recites monotonously, approaching his brother. Kankuro doesn't flinch.

"Gee, one would think you're trying to protect her or something since she's had nothing but good records on her files. Plus her extraordinary ability. But of course you're right, I must be mistaken – we wouldn't want people to think that you might actually _favor_ one of your own kunoichis." The elder of the two drones, a perpetual eye-roll unmistakable.

"That is exactly the case, brother." Seethes the redhead. Kankuro merely nods in fake solemnity.

"So why _are_ you really here?"

"There are traitors amongst us, intel says they've been meeting out on the borders of Wind Country, along the coast of the Fire. They are said to be highly volatile and extremely dangerous and will do anything to get me out of office…the reason for which many of our own don't make it back…"

On the other side of the door, Machi leans, breath cut shot from having heard every word.

Her kunai pouch has long since been forgotten.

* * *

"It's dangerous!" Temari yells as Machi shoves another batch of kunai into her pouch. "What are you doing?!"

"I'm a kunoichi am I not? Is it not my job to protect this village, and by extension the Kazekage who oversees it?" Three scrolls, one waterskin, five more shrukens.

"Look, I don't care what you think Gaara's opinions of you are, but if you think he'll approve of this, you're dreaming." The blonde scowls, clenched fists shaking.

Machi smiles – softly, sweetly, sadly; it doesn't reach her eyes. "Then it's a good thing I went directly to the elders to volunteer, isn't it?"

With one last look at her apartment to make sure everything is in its place, Machi slings the back over her shoulder and heads to the window, opening it. Only a hand caught in her jacket stopped her in her tracks.

"Mari, don't."

"Why are you doing this?" Temari's eyes are bluer than Machi's ever seen them, and the layer of gloss over those sea-foam blues make the younger kunoichi's heart clench like no other. She loves her so much that the guilt of leaving her behind is beginning to overwhelm her. It's selfish, she knows, not to mention stupid, to throw it all away for some guy, some- some stupid, stubborn, unreasonable asshole who sees her as nothing but a – well, he doesn't see her at all. The same asshole who also saved her unknowingly, who took the loneliness away just for a little while, who, at the end of the day granted her the sense of security when she goes to bed at night.

But still. Temari, _her_ Temari stands before her, is begging, begging for her to stay, begging for her to be safe. And if she wants to actually go through with it she needs to leave as fast as she can.

"He's worth my loyalty," she murmurs, nails digging into the strap of her bag.

"And me?" A tear slips down Temari's cheek – a streak of mascara comes with.

With a gentle curl of her lips, Machi leans forward to swipe a thumb across the streak, replacing it a second after with her mouth. "You're my best friend."

"Fuck," Temari laughs unsteadily, rubbing her own eyes with the back of her sleeve, "I love you a lot you know?"

"And I love you too."

"You'll come back to me in one piece?"

Machi puts a foot on the opened window. With one last backwards glance at her friend, she winks cheekily, "even if I have to crawl."

And then she's gone.

* * *

"Gaara, I really think we should send out a few teams to scout out the areas, especially if they're along the borders – if anything, we need to send out a word to the Hokage as well, so that she at least know that these are rogue ninjas." Kankuro regards his brother seriously – the thought of anyone constantly trying to hurt his baby brother is beyond infuriating.

Gaara glares towards the council members before him, staring down every shuffling shinobi. Every other one seem to have held their breath before the redhead and only exhale when he takes his attention off them long enough to speak,

"See to it that the Hokage gets the message. Dismissed."

Immediately, the council scatters. Baki comes up behind his former student.

"Why aren't we sending out teams to investigate? If it's indeed another assassination attempt, we need to shut these traitors down." He insists gruffly but Gaara pays him no heed.

"There is no need to risk the lives of my shinobi when the grudge is against me. Let them come." The redhead states with cold civility, his voice scratches and rolls off his tongue. He re-scrolls the map of the Fire-Wind borders.

"How can you be so sure they'll come?" Baki inquires, looking between the brothers evenly.

"When someone wants to kill me, they always do."

By the time Gaara finishes his duties, every last mission has been assigned a team, and to his relief, every document has been stamped or sealed. This happens so frighteningly rare that he almost dreads the freedom, dreads the thought that something might come up to ruin it, but surprisingly, no one has stopped him on his way out of the tower.

And then it happens.

Of course it does.

It's his sister, his strong, brave older sister who comes running his way, fingers trembling, cheeks damp. And with a sob in her throat, she chokes out,

"She's gone."

Gaara couldn't describe the sudden clench in his chest.


	5. Frappé

_Three Years Later_

A limping figure slowly approaches the entrance of the Sand. Most of the sentries don't recognize her, and those who catch a wisp of familiarity couldn't place their fingers on the identity of the woman.

She looks sure of herself, the female figure. Like she knows exactly where she is headed, and yet her eyes seem so… lost. Tanned skin glistened with sweat and blood, lips split; chopped hair knotted in several different areas, the woman appears so frail, so small. The thin shirt hangs loosely on her body and at the same time sticks to her back painfully.

"Ma'am, I'm going to need to see some identification if you wish to enter the village. For what purpose are you here?" demanded a broad guard. The girl tilts her head with effort to look up at him. At least he blocks the sun from her eyes. "Ma'am, why are you here?"

"Me?" She whispers, looking past him to catch a glimpse of the village, vision blurring. "I'm coming home."

* * *

It's all muscle memory once she steps foot into the sand. The smell, a mixture of Prickly Pear Cactus and Joshua trees and something just a bit musky, tickles her nostrils. The sand feels more compact beneath her feet, more solid, less like she would be swallowed if she missed a step. Her parched throat seeks water, but her mind seeks home first.

Yet Machi does neither. By the time she's come to her senses, her feet had already taken her straight to the Kage tower.

She isn't sure exactly what she expects, what she is looking for, as she stands before it. It towers over her, and just like that, all the previous confidence she had dissipates into thin air.

Really, what had she been expecting?

Machi's mind draws a blank.

Is it Kankuro's smiling face? Temari's warm embrace? Or perhaps just… Gaara? Just to know how he's doing? See if he's gotten taller? Watch his hair dance like rampant flames? Or is it just to hear his voice, honey and thorns, whisper her name, tell her she did a good job?

The questions in her head all fall to a screeching stop when suddenly, a woman comes up, shoving a flyer in her face.

 _Next Thursday – 7:30pm_

 _Great Courtyard_

 _Kazekage's Engagement Celebration_

The frail woman freezes, and slowly, oh so slowly, raises a fist to rub deeply at her eyes.

There has been a mistake.

She's tired, she's not reading right.

She tries to blink – once – twice – but the letters, such harsh black on white would not change their shapes. The deep red swirls that supposedly symbolize love anoint and border the characters and burn into her palms; they burn like the 'Ai' engraved into the Kazekage's forehead.

Machi looks up at the tower, then back down at the announcement in her hand again. Cut-up fingers are beginning to tremble, but she barely notices. Perhaps her injuries are worse than she thought, because her chest has started to hurt, and for the love of her she can't figure out why. Her feet give in; her knees bear the brunt as she crashes down to the sand.

"Excuse me…" A deep male voice suddenly shocks her out of her trance. Machi looks up at the tall man who has somehow succeeded in creeping up on her. Then again, she supposes that isn't all too difficult, considering her current sight.

And what a sight she must've been for the taupe-haired man – a pitiful, tattered kunoichi, a stranger in her own homeland, kneeling before the Kazekage tower, trembling like an abused Chihuahua.

"Can I help you?" Machi feels herself croaking, suddenly aware how dry her throat really is.

The man looks down with kind, brown eyes, and for the first time Machi notices the deep scars on his skin, one on his chin, and the other across his neck. He smiles at her, "More like, can I help _you_?"

Machi looks down at herself. Right.

"I –I just got home from a mission," she murmurs. _Not a lie._

"Must've been some mission…" The ninja kneels, a serious look veiling his face. "I'm Shira. Please let me take you to the hospital. I'm sure the Kazekage wouldn't mind postponing the report."

 _The r-report …right, ninjas report to the Kazekage post-mission,_ Machi gnaws at her bottom lip, disoriented. It's been too long.

"I'll be fine, I- I can," she makes a move to stand, only to fall right back. Luckily, a pair of arms scoops beneath her before she could touch the ground.

"You were saying?" He almost grins good-naturedly, had it not been for the look in those cerulean eyes. They were so … empty. He's seen that look before, once before, in a pair of aquamarine eyes…

Machi flinches as the skin touched skin, and immediately struggles out of his grasp, however well-intended. She drops onto the hot sand with a thud, body twisted in an almost impossible position, but she doesn't seem to feel the twist of her bones.

"Wh- are you alright?" Shira reaches out, startled by the sudden reaction.

"Don't touch me don't!" The brunette screams out, pushing away. It had been knee-jerk reaction; logically, she hadn't meant to – lord knows her touch-starved body craves it so. And yet, three years of hardship, solitude, and physical abuse can ingrain that reflex in anyone.

"What's wrong?" The scarred man advances, but Machi jerks once more out of his reach.

"No! No, no-"

Her heart thump deeply in her chest, war drums pounding loud in her ears. Everything seems blurry in her mind – the moves she makes, the words she says – her body is reacting without her permission.

 _Hold me._

 _Pull me close._

"Stay away from me!" Her mouth blurts once more as she heaves painfully through her battered lungs.

"Okay! Okay!" Shira acquiesces, back away slowly; still, it doesn't ease the worry embedded in his furrowed brows and pursed lips. "Is there someone else I can get for you?"

At that question, Machi stills, breathing falling to the back corner of her mind. _'Is there?'_ She thinks. If there anyone left in this world for her? Does Temari still await her return? Does Kankuro miss having her around?

Does Gaara even remember her name?

The mere thought makes her entire body shake with ache. Not the physical kind of ache, post-combat. Something deeper. Something from the core. Something that tightens her jaw and glosses her eyes.

Something that makes her wish she had died.

* * *

Shira trudges up the stairs of the Kazekage Tower, passing fellow shinobis and secretaries alike. His eyes are far away, seemingly deep in thought.

It had been a weird encounter, half a day ago, when he stumbled upon the strange kunoichi with very obvious symptoms of PTSD. He had wanted to help her, at least take her to the hospital, but after the ordeal she had simple vanished without a trace – no chakra signs, no smells, nothing. He hadn't even managed to get a name! Briefly, he thought about forgetting the incident altogether – but her face – something about the look on her face keeps coming back to him. He can't quite put a finger on it, maybe he can ask the Kazekage -

"Hey, if it isn't Shira."

The mauve-haired ninja jerks up, shot out of his reverie. A familiar, strong presence towers over him. "Temari-sama!"

The kunoichi looks taller than he has last seen her – more refined, more sure of herself. Her posture is a little straighter, her jaws a little sharper, but aside from that, she remains the pale woman with the messy blond hair and the permanent smirk. Still, Shira does not miss the tinge of dark circles under her deep aqua eyes. That is unlike Lady Temari – he wonders what happened. "It's about time you showed up, Gaara could use a break from his paperwork."

"I'm sure," Shira stifles a good-natured laugh as he picks up his pace. "I should hurry then."

As he passes the Kazekage's Second in Command, Temari's smirk vanishes, and suddenly, a strange solemnity veils the air around them. "Shira." He straightens. "He's in that mood again."

Swallowing, Shira nods ones, then hurries upstairs.

* * *

The door opens with a start, disturbing every dust particle set in the past three years. Machi stumbles in, trembling fingers pressed firmly on the newly reopened wound on her stomach. She stifles a cough and staggers, doubling over, but it doesn't stop her from dragging her feet to the couch.

* * *

A knock.

"Enter."

Shira is on edge when he pushes open the wooden door. It's not like he's scared of the Kazekage per se, as the Kazekage is truly not a bad man – Shira himself can attest to that – however, that doesn't mean that the Kazekage is no longer a frightening man.

And the "moods" that Lady Temari speaks about, Shira has been present to a few.

They started roughly three years ago, if Shira had to make a guess. From the outside, one wouldn't have been able to notice a difference in his behavior; and yet, after having regular spars with the Kazekage over the years, even Shira was able to detect a slight change.

To start off, the Kazekage is by no means inept in the field of taijutsu; however, there is always room for improvement, as can be said for everyone. It was what impressed Shira in the first place, that the Kazekage himself was not too proud to ask for help. While Gaara may not be the best in the area, somehow, during every single one of his 'moods,' Shira would always come out more damaged than usual. The red-head's attacks were stronger, faster, and more brutal, although his techniques remained in need of refinement. He was quicker to anger, and the agitated snakes of sand hissed louder as a result. The first time Shira had faced Gaara in that state, the mauve-haired nin ended up unable to command his limbs for the twenty-four following hours.

Luckily for him, those 'moods' of the Kazekage have since become less and less frequent. But still, when they come, they come as ferociously as ever, and Shira is yet again kept on his toes, for the Kazekage always seems to come up with newer, sneakier ways to knock him off his feet.

Currently, on the other side of the paper-filled desk, sits the red-haired shinobi himself, shoulders tensed and face dark, not necessarily because of the shadow of his cap. The air around him is heavy as Shira listens to the scratch of pen on paper; the mauve-haired nin opts for not saying anything for a moment. Sure enough, the scratching eventually draws to a stop.

Before he could open his mouth however, the Kazekage stands abruptly, wind swirling around his intimidating person. One moment he's at the desk, the next, he stands besides Shira, frame small, presence tall.

His hat and robe fall an unruly pile by his desk.

"Let's go."

Shira doesn't dare do anything else but nod.

* * *

Light filters through the thin cream-colored curtains, casting a gentle shine into the previously deserted apartment.

Machi sits on the cold tiles, heavy breaths leaving a trail of fire from her lungs to her mouth. Her back presses painfully to the side of the couch as she heaves, feeling her broken ribs constrict the expansion of her lungs.

She had tried to get on the couch, she really did, but she hadn't expected her legs to give out this soon.

She had no time for Sabaku no Gaara. He didn't deserve her, didn't deserve everything she gave up for him. And maybe it's unfair of her to think this way since he hadn't asked for any of this, but her broken spirits could not be rational right now even if she tried.

She focuses on her breathing, hoping the bleeding on her abdomen would stop soon before it dirties the floor.

* * *

Gaara backflips into a crouching position, effectively dodging Shira's impending kick, then reaches up to grab the Jonin's leg, using it as a means to swing the bigger man back into a pair of concrete pillars too close for Shira to have the time to position himself to bounce off them.

As Gaara intended, the mauve-haired nin slams face first into the rock-hard structure – the only reason he can still come out with a face is entirely thanks to his quick reflexes to focus all his chakra on his head, minimizing the damage. Shira gets up, and the sparring continues.

The spar had gone on for three hours now, with Kankuro appearing to observe at a little over the two hour mark. He's on his lunch break anyway.

His little brother has gotten significantly faster, Kankuro has to admit. The Kazekage is not to be taken lightly after all – even without his sand, Gaara still makes quite the shinobi. Not only is he strong, he is cunning, nimble, and at times, brazen as well.

Something is pushing his brother to fight, he can tell. Gaara doesn't normally spar as though his life depends on it; his usual quiet confidence has since been taken over by this- this simmering anger, and no one, not even Temari, has a clue as to why. He might have become a kinder, gentler man than he was before, but Gaara of the Sand still remains discrete to the point of terse.

The puppet-user sighs deeply, leaning back against a training post. The sky is so blue, and the weather is scorching hot, just like that day. He pulls a bento from his bag, tearing into it.

As he chews on the slightly overdone chicken and rice that he had made himself, because Temari has long told him to "kindly fuck off and stop relying on women to do everything," he lets his mind wander to a girl he once knew. She was too chatty, too pushy, too curious, too rancorous, too stubborn, and he loved her very dearly for it. He wonders where she is now, if she's still alive. The anniversary of her disappearance should be coming up, making Kankuro more agitated than usual during this time of year.

She had done a really stupid thing, Kankuro reaffirms to himself. Who was she to be so cocky as to think she could take out every single person threatening the Kazekage all by her damn self? Who was she to be too proud to ask for help? _Who was she to leave without so much as a goodbye._

To this day, he still doesn't understand why she left. People threaten Gaara all the time, what made it different that time? Even someone as stupid as Uzumaki Naruto wouldn't do that.

Stupid, stupid girl.

* * *

"God, so stupid!" Machi half-yells, half-laughs in a near maniacal manner, cracked voice echoing throughout the otherwise silent apartment. She slams a fist on the couch seat in frustration, coughing as dust flies and fills her lungs.

The bleeding has slowed but hasn't stopped, and she is getting drowsier by the second. Her head has long since been up in smokes, and her thoughts no longer form correctly. Her body fights to stay awake, but she is sure that her eyelids must be attached to anchors.

She should've gone to the hospital, should've let that guy, what's his name, Shiro, Shiko, Shikamaru, take her. Why did she have to go and make herself disappear like an idiot?

Maybe that _was_ what she wanted, to disappear.

Going to the hospital would have meant leaving a record, which would have in turn eventually gotten back to the Kazekage when the staff realized that she was the missing-nin who left the village three years ago.

Still, she isn't quite sure that dying when she finally got home is really the better option.

* * *

"That's it, I'm done!" Shira pants from the ground, chest heaving enough to induce a small earthquake in itself. He is sure that every bone in his body has melted, and it's not from the searing heat of Sunakagure.

Wordlessly, Gaara approaches the Jonin's pitiful figure spread atop the hot sand, and offers his arm. Shira gratefully pulls himself upright by the Kazekage's outstretched hand, and pats himself down the best he can despite his screaming muscles.

How impressive. How frightening.

The Kazekage does not have a single mark on his body, yet Shira is covered in cuts and bruises from head to toe.

 _And_ there is still a little inkling that the Kazekage had been holding back.

Maybe next time he should invite Kankuro-sama to join, then they can both attack Gaara-sama at the same time.

Speaking of the puppet-master, Kankuro walks up with bottles of water in hand, and Shira does not hesitate to swipe one off him and take a swig. Gaara does the same, albeit with much less conviction and vigor.

When his thirst is sated, the mauve-haired nin turns to face his Kazekage fully, intent on broaching the subject of the strange kunoichi.

"Gaara-sama?"

"Hm."

"I know it's probably not exactly… conventional to ask, but," Shira begins, staring straight into his intense gaze. He has caught the Kazekage's interest with that preface, clearly. "who was the kunoichi who came back from a mission yesterday?"

"Shira, you know how many people come back from missions everyday," Kankuro chuckles good-naturedly, "how is Gaara supposed to know?"

"This one is different, Kankuro-sama," the scarred Jonin explains, turning to the man in face paint, "she must've come back from an A-rank or S-rank solo mission. She was completely battered. She disappeared before I could get her name."

"Weird," Kankuro begins, turning to his younger brother, "has anyone been sent on an A-rank or S-rank recently?"

Gaara's eyes narrow, "no."

The Kazekage thinks back. No, he would've known if one of his shinobi has been sent away solo, and he would've definitely remembered a shinobi reporting to him, badly injured. He himself would've insisted on their immediate hospitalization.

"That's strange. She was pretty injured for someone who isn't on a high-ranked mission…" Shira turns, mumbling to himself. "And then she just disappeared?"

"Disappeared how?" Gaara asks suddenly, drawing both Kankuro's and Shira's attention.

"I'm not sure," Shira answers uncertainly, brows furrowing in concentration. "One minute I was offering to take her to the hospital, the next she's just…gone. No chakra, no smell, nothing."

Beside him, Kankuro hears his brother's breath hitch for the first time since the sparring commenced.

And then Gaara starts running, and he's shouting, and all of a sudden sand bursts into the air, rustling louder than autumn leaves. The sudden assault on his auditory sense renders Kankuro momentarily deaf, and all he catches is the faintest hint of a nod from the shinobi beside him.

Kankuro has seen his brother's lips move; all he said was,

' _Brown hair, blue eyes.'_

* * *

" _I'm leaving."_

" _Yes, Gaara-sensei." Matsuri bows quickly, stacking together the remaining pile of mission reports to file for tomorrow. "Shall I accompany you?"_

" _No."_

 _The Kazekage's brown-haired disciple nods, eyes-downcast. Gaara has been more taciturn than usual, even by his standards. Matsuri has heard, and so has everyone by now, that a brave kunoichi of the Sand has set out to destroy a web of rogue ninja activities operating on the Fire-Wind border, and that she, alone, intends to protect the Kazekage from afar._

 _It didn't take long for her to put the pieces together, but what is most troubling is that her dear mentor has never mentioned a word to her. Has that girl truly made such an impression on her laconic Gaara-sensei? She who was put on probation, who disgraced the Hidden Sand? She who used the Kazekage's own sister to get to him? In any case, Gaara never seems to want to speak of the girl – hell, he doesn't even like her name mentioned in his presence. Yukata is probably right, Matsuri shouldn't worry._

 _Still, it doesn't stop Matsuri from looking out the small window, watching the Kazekage's retreating back._

* * *

 _Gaara stalks through the street, silent as a shadow. The wind whips past his long robe, unrelenting as he moves. He doesn't know where he's going, but he walks as though he has a destination in mind._

 _He doesn't go home._

 _Gaara can't remember the last time he's been home – a week ago? Maybe two? These days, all he wants to do is roam the desert streets, hearing his sandals crunch against the gritty path, crisp as though snapping a bone._

 _Sleep has never come naturally, even after all his time. He sleeps, because Shukaku no longer prevents it, but that doesn't mean he can't go without._

 _But sleepwalking – this is new._

 _Gaara isn't even certain that he_ **is** _sleepwalking, but last night, when he came to, he was standing on the edge of the stone cliffs that double as the Hidden Sand's only entrance, looking out into the vast horizon. He didn't know what he was looking for, or why he was even there, all that was clear was that he felt the need to be there, the need to scour the sand with his own tired eyes._

 _Tonight, his trance has brought him to a difference place. A familiar place._

 _As per usual, the playground is empty this time of night, save for the ghostly creaks of the rocking horses. Sand swirls around the swings, almost as if it's inviting him._

' _Come.'_

 _Gaara lets himself be drawn by the strange feeling and approaches the swing set with half-lidded eyes. A single tug at his sash, and his gourd drops with a 'thud'. The wind tempts him to sit, so cool against his bare skin, so alluring._

 _He nestles carefully between two familiar chains, fingers wrapping around the cold and the rust. Another gentle gust rocks him._

 _A small smile tugs at his lips. Temari and Kankuro must be sleeping now, and here he is, at the playing after hours, doing something he isn't supposed to._

 _And it feels good._

'Monster!'

 _Gaara's eyes suddenly snap up. "Who's there?!"_

Laughter.

" _Identify yourselves this instant!" Gaara growls, standing. He surveys the surrounding, only to be answered by a deserted playground. Clenching his teeth, he curses beneath his breath. His trances are getting worse – he's hearing voice now?_

 _Coming here was a bad idea – he needs to go home._

 _Angrily, the Kazekage yanks the gourd up by its strap, swinging the large container over his shoulder. His feet jerk him forward to the other side of the street, and within moments, his fingers are tapping furiously on the intercom._

 _Once._

 _Twice._

 _Three times._

" _Arg!" The ordinarily-calm Kazekage slams his naked palm over the machinery, effectively cracking its frame. "Why isn't anyone an- …"_

 _He pauses, retrieving his burning hand, staring at it with widened-eyes. The rosiness of his cheeks suddenly drains from his face when the realization hits._

 _The Kazekage backs away from the intercom, nearly falling down a small series of shallow steps. Wide, aquamarine eyes travel up the building, to the middle window on the top._

 _Why has he come here?_

…

 _Wasn't he trying to go home?_


End file.
